


You Are My Night Sky

by kipnova



Series: YAMNSverse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst, Being best friends, Camping, Closeted Castiel (Supernatural), College AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Highschool AU, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Blood, Nothing more to see here, References to Supernatural (TV), Summer break, YAMNS, and other dangerous activities, hes only here for like 3 seconds anyway, how adorable, how peculiar, howd monster hunting get in there, illegal fireworks, just look at him admire his stars, just two lifelong best friends, lol i forgot to tag oskar, longform, monster hunting, nerdy Castiel is best Castiel, take a read and see for yourself, thats all - Freeform, wait, who knows - Freeform, whoopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 105,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipnova/pseuds/kipnova
Summary: It’s nearing the end of Summer 1997, and Castiel is finally able to go on that camping trip with Dean he’s been wanting to go on for years. However, it’s their last chance to really hang out before Castiel must leave for college. They make the most out of it by embarking on adventures around the lake. Canoeing, hiking, tubing, stargazing, middle-of-the-night monster hunts—you name it. Not only is it Castiel’s last chance to spend quality time with his best friend, but it’s also his last chance to tell Dean how he truly feels. After two long years of secretive pining, Castiel must summon the courage to speak up, or find the strength to let go.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, a bit of an introduction first. I wrote this story for my best friend in high school. We were planning to go on a camping trip together the summer after high school graduation. But things got in the way, my family and I were moving out of state at the time, so it was kind of hectic, and we never got to take that camping trip. I was pretty bummed out about it, so I wrote my friend this story as a replacement for that trip. I knew they liked reading, and I knew they liked fanfiction, and I liked writing it, so hey, it all worked out. And at that point, this was the best I could do to make up for it.
> 
> That was three years ago. I'm sharing this online with you all now because I figured I worked hard enough on it and put enough heart in it, that more people out there could find some sort of enjoyment out of it. Whether you're about to get shipped off to college and separated from a friend, or you like someone and don't know how to tell them, or in any case, I hope you find some form of comfort or feel good-ness in this story. I know it helped me a lot to write it.

“I  can’tbelieveyouforgot yoursleepingbag.” 

Castiel groaned. “For the billionth time, Dean, I did _not_  forget it,” he said, struggling to figure out just when and how his sleeping bag managed to escape. He could’ve sworn he’d thrown it on the backseat of Dean’s car when he was picked up. Then he went back inside to grab the rest of his things. After that, they left. Castiel checked back mid-drive just to make sure he had everything—when he noticed a very empty spot that shouldn’t have been empty at all. His sleeping bag was gone. And it’s not like it could’ve just grown legs and walked away, right? Castiel thought that with his luck, it probably had. “It just…disappeared.”

“Or you, ya know,” Dean shrugged, “forgot it.”

Castiel shot him a childish glare, only to make it worse by sticking out his tongue when Dean responded with a chiding look. Okay, yes, Castiel supposed he could be a pretty forgetful person. But he made sure to stockpile everything for this particular trip. He even made a list, and “sleeping bag” was definitely on there and checked off accordingly. 

“Maybe we didn’t look hard enough. I’m sure it’s just—”

“You said you put it right on top of my backpack, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well it wasn’t there.”

“I know I put it in your car, Dean. I just don’t know how it got out.”

“Uh huh,” Dean mumbled, sounding like he didn’t believe in that one bit.

With a huff, Castiel tried turning his attention to their task at hand—“tried” being the key word there. His current view of the shelves within the storage closet was rather...impeding. How Dean expected them to find a spare sleeping bag like this, nearly smushed up against the shelves themselves, to hell if Castiel knew. But, too excited for the trip, Dean was less than willing to turn back and drive into town once they’d realized they were missing something. Castiel couldn’t blame him; this trip had been postponed far too many times to wait any longer. Fortunately, Bobby’s house happened to be on the way to the campground. He had loads of outdoor gear, so a sleeping bag was bound to be around here somewhere, and Dean was always more than welcome to barge in whenever.

“It’s gotta be in here somewhere...” he muttered, jiggling his flashlight when it threatened to die out.

“That’s what you said when we searched the garage,” Castiel mentioned, now his turn to throw a chiding look. “Now who’s the forgetful one.”

“Hey, it’s been a good ten years since I last used the damn thing. Gimme some slack.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t forgotten your—”

“I didn’t forget it, it disappeared!”

“Right. Just like your PJs when they mysteriously ‘disappeared’ last time you came over.”

“That wasn’t—it—” And then it dawned on him.

_Gabe._

Of course. His brother must’ve stolen it from the car when he went back in to grab the rest of his stuff. That had to be it. That’s what Gabriel had done with his pajamas in the aforementioned situation, after all. ‘You’ll thank me later,’ was the note that had been tossed in Castiel’s knapsack in place of his missing pajamas, unmistakably written in his older brother’s handwriting. 

Wait. Why would Gabe even take the sleeping bag, of all things? With the pajamas, it was so Castiel either had to sleep in nothing but his briefs or borrow some clothes from Dean. As for the sleeping bag…he’d either have to freeze to death without one, or ask Dean to share—oh.

_Oh._

“Dammit, Gabriel…” Castiel muttered, grumbling at his brother’s antics.

“Gabriel? What’d he do this time?”

Castiel sighed. “I just realized that he probably took it.”

“What, the sleeping bag? Why?”

“Because he’s a big jerk, that’s why.”

Knowing Gabriel, Dean easily accepted that answer with a short laugh. “Sounds like him.”

Castiel gave back his own unamused snort and rolled his eyes. Ever since Gabe found out about his little—okay, huge—crush on Dean, he’s been pulling all sorts of tricks in effort to either make fun of or help him out with it. Most cases, it was hard to tell. This time was no different.

“Anyway, it’s a good thing we checked.” Dean slugged his shoulder and continued with a taunting grin, “Otherwise we would’ve had to share.”

Castiel could only fake his next laugh and hide the blush that followed it. Sharing a sleeping bag with Dean? Well, he wouldn’t have minded.

He wouldn’t have minded at all.

But he wasn’t about to tell Dean that, of course. With his whole personal space issue and whatnot.

Speaking of personal space (or lack thereof), Dean sure didn’t seem to mind that their backs were currently smushed together as they searched through the closet. It was cluttered and cramped, old boxes and musty trash bags bulging with God knows what, making the air stuffier than it should’ve been. Oh well, at least it gave Castiel an excuse to get closer to Dean. He couldn’t help leaning just a tad into him, his back nice and warm against his own. And when Dean leant back just enough to let him know that—yes, he felt that—Castiel grinned. They could always count on each other, support one another. Sure, it was the smallest of gestures here, but little reminders like these never failed to put a smile on his face.

Castiel stole a glance at him over his shoulder. Dean was waving a flashlight at a sagging shelf, cursing in familiar disgust at the mouse droppings that sprinkled the surface. This situation was far from decent, much less romantic, but Castiel was willing to take all he could of Dean Winchester. They only had so many days left, before—

Unaware of the face hanging over his shoulder, Dean spun to face him. “Find anyth—” was all he could say before their foreheads crashed together. A loud thunk preceded the pained hiss coming through his teeth. They’d hit hard enough for it to mildly hurt, and Castiel stumbled back in embarrassment as Dean clutched his head. “Son of a bitch...”

“Are you, uh. You alright, Dean?”

“I’m fine. Just…have you found my old sleeping bag yet or what?”

“Oh, um…” Castiel glanced about, picking up the flashlight he hadn’t realized he’d dropped until now. “You haven’t even told me what it looks like,” he defended, as if that helped justify why they were still rifling through the tight space. He’d hardly even looked.

Castiel could hear the eye roll in Dean’s exasperated sigh. “It looks like a friggin’ sleeping bag!”

“Right.”

Though no one could really blame him. This would be his first time camping, well, ever. Every time Dean invited him over the years, something always had to come up and push it into next week. Schoolwork. Cello lessons. Appointments. Recitals. Family emergencies. Freaking chores. It seemed that no matter what, his mother or brothers or sisters—or all three in some cases—would put a so-called “important task” between him and this trip. And with Castiel’s luck, anything that could get in the way, would. Then he’d have to give Dean his weekly dose of disappointment, telling him he couldn’t go because his mother required him to do Anna’s laundry or something equally as menial. Then Dean would slap on a smile and give an unconvincing, “Don’t worry. You’re a busy guy. I get it.”

And Castiel hated it. He hated disappointing Dean over and over again, when all Dean ever did was be the greatest friend he ever had.

Castiel was about to concoct an apology, when his flashlight roved over a neatly rolled-up bundle of red and blue on the shelf. “Hey,” he called out, plucking the sleeping bag out from the mess. He turned to show it to Dean. “Is this it?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, that’s Sam’s. You don’t wanna use that one.”

“Why not?”

“Because he peed in it like, fifty times.”

Castiel scrunched his face as he held the thing out and away from his body. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Bladder of a kitten on that—ah ha!”

Dean reached behind him and snatched something up off the shelf. Castiel saw nothing but a dark mass as Dean retreated and pulled whatever it was over his head.

“Hey!” Castiel complained, struggling to untangle himself from it. “What are you…” Static sparked through his hair as it was pulled over him. Dean chuckled to himself as Castiel tossed the damn thing off. When Castiel was finally able to hold his flashlight out again, Dean stood before him with a grey and black heap of fabric slung over his shoulder.

“Found it.”

Castiel blinked. “Congratulations,” he deadpanned. After nudging his glasses back in place, he quickly flattened the locks of hair that’d been so rudely brushed up in every known direction. 

Then there was a loud rap on the door, and he flinched. “You idjits still dancin’ in the closet?”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the door. “We’re leaving now, Bobby. Thanks.”

“What, no goodbyes?”

Dean latched onto Castiel’s wrist and walked him out of the closet. “Adios, old man!”

“So Cas,” Bobby began, leaning a shoulder against the wall to stop Dean in his tracks. “You finally decided to answer Dean’s prayers and go campin’ with him, huh?”

“Oh, you prayed for this?” Castiel shot Dean a teasing glance. That only made Dean yank on his wrist harder.

“Every night,” Bobby answered for him, with a nod to assure Castiel of it.

“Got any firewood?” Dean asked.

“Thought you were leavin’, ” Bobby recalled, casting a look.

“Yeah well, I was going to buy some at the gas station on the way out of town, but then I realized you probably had some and you’d give it to us for free, you wonderful Uncle Bobby you.”

Bobby scoffed, but led them out back anyways. “Don’t give yourself a cavity actin’ all sweet to me.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Behind Bobby’s house laid more or less a backyard, if fifty square feet of broken branches and knee-high grass counted as a backyard. As an old, grumpy shut-in, Bobby never had the need for one, but this was his attempt at providing Dean and Sam one for whenever they had to come over. Beside the porch was a splintery flower bed with bags of trash and empty beer bottles littering the sides. Any flowers planted in it must’ve long been dead. There was a tattered rope swing tied to a dead tree a ways back, and an enormous pile of leaves and twigs beneath it. And tucked beneath the shade of three large pines was a wood shed, filled halfway with a mixture of sawed trees. “How much d’you boys need?” Bobby asked, leading them across the haphazard lawn.

“Four bundles seems enough. One for each night.”

“Well I don’t got nothin’ to ‘bundle’ it with, so.” Bobby scooped up a pile of wood and dumped it into Dean’s unsuspecting arms. “Four armfuls is what you’re goin’ to get.”

“Thanks.” Even with the sleeping bag to carry, Dean handled it well and hoisted any loose pieces securely in his hold. Castiel stood close by to help just in case.

Before Dean could walk too far off, Bobby suggested, “Why don’t you get Sam outta the car and get him to help carry some.”

“He’s not in the car,” was Dean’s quick reply.

“Oh. Well then where is he?”

“Back home.”

Castiel had his arms out, ready to carry a stack of wood to the car. But Bobby paused and furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “By himself?”

Dean huffed, and Castiel knew it wasn’t because of the weight he was carrying. “No,” he said slowly. “Dad’s home. And he should be staying home till we get back.”

“Okay…” Bobby nodded carefully, surely caught up on the ‘should be’ in Dean’s words.

“I left Sammy a wad of cash, and he knows Ms. Tran’s number. She’ll pick him up if he needs anything. You comin’, Cas?”

Though hesitant, Bobby accepted that tidbit for now and passed a heap of wood into Castiel’s arms. Castiel flashed a small smile and said, “thanks,” before turning to follow Dean around the house.

Much unlike Dean, Castiel struggled to keep each and every chunk of firewood from falling. Not that it was too heavy, it was just…piled unevenly. Then his glasses decided it was the perfect time to start sliding down his nose. Grumbling, Castiel whipped his head back in attempt to flick them back into place, but that only made a rogue piece of wood smack his jaw while three others fell from his arms. His attempts to retrieve them only resulted in the rest of the pile to roll out of his arms. Castiel fumbled to catch some as they fell, but it was a lost cause. “Great,” he muttered, bending over to pick them up. By the time he reached the car, Dean had already thrown his pile and the sleeping bag in the trunk.

“You got it?” he teased, picking up a stray branch.

“Yeah, I—” and just then, four more pieces conveniently fell from his grasp and onto the ground.

Dean laughed. He helped pick them up. “No you don’t.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m only human, Dean.”

Flakes of tree bark covered the upper halves of their bodies, so Castiel spent a greater part of the walk back attempting to brush them off his sweater. Dean didn’t seem to care. After a second trip to the woodshed, they were finally set—sleeping bag definitely in the car this time. Bobby gave a round of farewell hugs to them both, telling them to stay safe and not to start any wildfires.

“I’ll drive into town and check on Sam in a couple of days, make sure he ain’t in that house by himself.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean trapped himself in a second hug, and Castiel grinned. Neither were too terribly affectionate, which made their embrace a heartwarming sight. “We’ll stop by on the way back.”

“Drive safe, Dean.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Singer,” Castiel said with a wave as he and Dean stepped into the car.

“See you boys soon.” He didn’t wait for them to drive off to disappear back into the house.

Dean snickered as he closed his door. “‘Mr. Singer’...”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Hm? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it,” Dean replied, a snide grin clear on his face. “Mr. Novak.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Oh, hush.”

He flipped the passenger visor open. Through the small, smudged-up mirror, he checked to make sure all his hair was no longer sticking up in every which direction. A patch on the left was still annoyingly disheveled, so he fixed it right away. Castiel knew Dean loved to see his hair messed up, that being the only reason he was so shy and meticulous about it.

When the air between them became too quiet, Dean not having bothered to start the engine yet, Castiel knew Dean was watching. He tried not to look back, but at this point he knew it was pointless. Dean knew, and he was waiting for the perfect moment to mess it right back up. With a sigh, Castiel dropped his hands and waited for Dean’s to reach over and do the inevitable.

The second Castiel resigned his avoidance and looked back, Dean had his fingers playfully mussing his hair. _Right on cue._ Though he rolled his eyes, it was out of affection rather than annoyance.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean grinned, “we’re going camping. Better get used to a messy head of hair.”

If anyone else got their hands on him like this, Castiel would kindly tell them to make like a bee and buzz off. Dean was the exception. Castiel would never admit it, but he always liked the way Dean’s fingers felt raking through his hair.

But Castiel couldn’t let that be known, of course. So before it could go on for too long, he tried swatting Dean’s hand away. “Stop it,” he moped. “I’m not a dog, Dean.”

Dean obliged, but not without widening that smirk on his face. “You’re still fun to pet.”

“I would hardly call that petting.” Before Dean could make  any further remarks that would make him blush, Castiel flipped the visor up and clicked on his seatbelt. “We should get going.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean turned the key and shifted his car into drive, but before doing anything else, he paused.

They stared at one another for a silent stretch, when Dean flashed him a genuine smile. “We’re going camping, man,” he said, the excitement and disbelief perfectly clear in his voice.

Castiel smiled back at that, glad Dean was happy about it, relieved he wasn’t holding any grudges for postponing it for so long. “So it seems,” Castiel replied, giving Dean a nudge. “Now put your seatbelt on and drive. I want to be there already.”

“Aye ye, Captain Speedy-Pants!” Dean gave a sharp salute and did as he was told with gusto.

Castiel laughed quietly and shook his head. They were going camping, and his whole body itched just to be there already.

“Are we there yet?” Castiel asked, though they’d barely just left Bobby’s driveway.

“Nope. Got another two hours’a drivin’ ahead of us.”

Castiel deflated in his seat, telling himself he’d better get comfortable. “Of course we do.”

“Ah come on, Cas,” Dean said, tapping out the guitar solo of a song that was playing over the radio. “Weather’s good, scenery’s pretty nice. And there’ll be plenty of AC/DC to keep us entertained.”

“Don’t you mean to keep _you_ entertained?”

Instead of a direct answer, Dean gave his absolute worst attempt at singing (dare it be called that) the chorus. “ _‘_ _Back in business again! Back in business again!_ _’_ ”

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded with a grumble, only to get drowned out by the speakers when Dean cranked them up. Guitars cried, drums pounded on the glass of the windows. Castiel was very much about to do that himself.

“ _‘_ _I’m the man with a shaft! I’m gonna stick it right up you!_ _’_ ” Dean’s voice howled and cracked and squeaked, all of it very much on purpose. He nudged Castiel’s shoulder. “You hear that Cas? We’re _‘back in business again!_ _’_ ”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but grinned. The way Dean’s face scrunched as he belted the song. The way he moved his head and shoulders to the beat. The way he sat, all limp and laid back. It was all very much Dean, and Castiel suddenly felt like two hours of watching him like this wouldn’t be enough. A cautious ‘stop messing around and watch the road’ pegged into his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Much like he couldn’t bring himself to say a plethora of many other things to Dean. Such as how unfair it was to be that attractive and the complete opposite of gay. Or how much he liked his face and really just him as a person and as a friend and hey, maybe even as someone more than that someday, now that’s just a thought and all but wouldn’t that be neat?

It was an endless list, really.

But he couldn’t tell Dean any of it. Not right now, anyway. They still had the drive ahead of them, so now would be the perfect time if he wanted to spend the next two hours in the most awkward of silences. So for now he’d simply keep his mouth shut and pretend none of those thoughts crossed his mind and everything would be just fine. Yeah. Fine and dandy.

He’d tell him, though, when the time is right. Before the end of this trip, before he left for college, he had to tell Dean something. A good mouthful of words were far overdue at this point, some more so than others. They all had their place between him and Dean, and for far too long had Castiel held them back. Chances were Dean would keep to himself on his end and never return a single one. But at this point, that was okay. Dean deserved to hear them, at the very least. Castiel had gone over the what-ifs and hows of it all too many times to count; it’d be such a wasted effort not to. And he wanted to tell him. He always did.

Most of all, he just wanted to be honest.

“See? Told you the scenery is nice.”

Castiel hummed in agreement, but he definitely wasn’t looking at the scenery. He wasn’t about to say anything further, either. There’d be plenty of time for that once they were actually camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! That's the prologue.  
> I've finished this story in its entirety about a year ago or so, so I'll be doing weekly updates (every Sunday afternoon for the next 9 weeks) for sure. Thanks for reading this introduction into "You Are My Night Sky" ("yamns" for short). I'm excited to share the rest with you all soon!
> 
> Also, I curated a soundtrack for this story! I think I'll just leave a list of songs for each chapter in the end notes. Although I suppose it wouldn't hurt to provide Spotify links too, since I've already got a YAMNS playlist on there anyway. Yeah. I think I'll do that. But you can choose to listen to the songs however you want, really. Or don't listen to them at all. The choice is yours.
> 
> PROLOGUE ST:  
> Do You Want to Know a Secret - The Beatles  
> Love Like Ghosts - Lord Huron  
> The Way I Feel Inside - The Zombies  
> I Think I Like You - Donora  
> Hideaway - Hudson Taylor  
> Escape (Acoustic Version) - Kongos
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	2. Day 1 - Catching Fireflies

“Hey. We’re here. Cas. Cas!”

Castiel jumped in his seat, a quiet “hm?” escaping as he snapped out of it.

“What, did I have a piece of food stuck on my face this whole time or somethin’?” Dean teased, rolling his window down.

Castiel just laughed, turning to face his own window so he could hide his blush. Okay, so the drive wasn’t so bad after all. Because he may or may not’ve been too busy ogling Dean to really notice the hours pass by. Minutes flew by like seconds then—

Dirt road. Pine trees. Nature.

Oh, right. Dean said that they’d made it, hadn’t he?

“Alright, let’s see here…” he mumbled, squinting his eyes to skim over the campground’s welcome sign. “Twelve bucks’a night, no firearms, no fireworks, don’t feed the bears, yadi-yadi-yah…aaand keep your pets on a leash. Huh, awesome. Nothing’s changed.”

“What do you mean, nothing’s changed?”

“Since Sammy and I came here last.” Dean shifted his car back into drive. “Well, the ‘no fireworks’ thing is now listed twice.” He shrugged. “Probably because of me and Sam.”

Castiel huffed a laugh. “You would.”

“And we did,” Dean said, sounding proud. “Least nothin’ too big caught on fire—that time…”

“That time? Dean, please tell me you didn’t bring fireworks.”

Dean cleared his throat. He waited a moment’s time before speaking up. “…I did not bring fireworks.”

“Uh huh.”

“What? I didn’t…”

“Right.”

“C’mon, Cas. Would I lie to you?”

“Absolutely.”

And once again, as if truth was working to claw its way out, Dean cleared his throat. “So. You gonna count my freckles again, or help me find a good campin’ spot?”

That got him to zip it.

Castiel’s blush only deepened, he could feel it burn and see it from the side mirror outside his window. Okay, fine. He could admit that he stared at Dean the whole drive down. But with his eyes on the road, he didn’t think Dean would’ve taken notice. So it was most likely just a joke, right? It had to’ve been. And the best way to kept it playing off as such was to go along with it.

...Right?

“One-hundred and sixty-seven.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

“You have one-hundred and sixty-seven freckles on your face,” Castiel explained, hoping he sounded as nonchalant as possible. “But,” he gave a careless shrug, “yes, I may have to count again. Just to make sure.”

The car rolled forward. The radio was a quiet, staticky hum at this point, but other than that, it was silent.

Well, great. That sounded just as awkward and creepy as he hoped it wouldn’t. And then there was that “again” Dean had chosen to use, like he was fully aware of the freckle-counting going on around here. Hopefully the silence meant that Dean was simply focused on trying to find them a nice camping spot. Or that he hadn’t heard him talk at all. Yeah, that would be for the best...

Castiel fiddled with his seatbelt. He silently prayed Dean had never actually taken the time to count his freckles himself, or was inclined to do so in the future. Because if he ever had or ever will, he would know that Castiel was _right_. That there were in fact, one-hundred and sixty-seven freckles on his face, and that Castiel _knew_ it. He counted them on so many other occasions, the number he blurted was not some random guess. It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t a mistake.

Or maybe it _was_ a mistake.

Now thoroughly anxious, Castiel sighed. He really needed to think about something else.

Looking for a camping spot—right. That sounded good. That would be a proper distraction.

They’d just about passed campsite number fifteen by the time Castiel got his head on straight. It being so late in the summer, only every so often did they pass a site that was occupied. Despite this there were families, couples, pets, RVs, motorcycles; there was a little bit of everything. The sites themselves all looked about the same. A table, a fire pit next to a log laid out for sitting, an empty space for the tent and another for the vehicle. The only thing differentiating them was the placement of said aspects, some with the table on the left or the fire pit further from the road. And so naturally, Castiel wasn’t quite understanding the point of choosing one yet.

But the further they went, the narrower the road got as it looped back in the direction they came. Here it was significantly more wooded and the campsites more recluse. After passing a handful of sites, the road wound around another corner and Castiel was suddenly greeted by a lake. It was gold and shining and rippling in the wind, and he’d hardly gotten a look as they sped by, the trees being so thick. But his heart still jumped at the promise of some time in the water.

“We should get one close by the lake,” Castiel suggested, containing himself just enough to not tug on Dean’s sleeve.

Dean grinned. “That’s what I was hoping for. ‘Was afraid we might not even get a site here, since we left so late. But it’s not so busy.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Kind of my fault, isn’t it?” Or Gabe’s. He could totally mentally blame their late arrival on Gabe.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Dean socked his shoulder. “We still made it with a bit of sunshine left.”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to his watch only for a second. He promptly registered the downward point of the hour-hand, but he didn’t care to think about that much further. It was a little late, but at least they still had four nights ahead of them.

“There’s this perfect spot down here, after this last turn. Hopefully no one’s taken it.” Dean craned his head forward, as if it’d help him see around the turn before they even passed it. “Sam and I camped at it one year, and we never took another one after that.”

“Yeah? What makes it so perfect?”

With the sun shining in through his window now, Dean’s lips quirked up. “You’ll see.”

They pulled around the corner, when a whoop of joy came from Dean. Castiel figured this perfect campsite was empty, whichever one it was. But he was too busy gaping at the lake outside his window to ask. The shore was hidden behind a small drop and there were still trees in the way, but now he could see that the lake was _huge_. The expanse of water reached far enough to hide the horizon in a blur of pine trees and hills. Its edges didn’t even seem to fit in his view. A small cluster of cabins and houses dotted the hills across. Islands were spread about, some big and booming with tall fluffy trees and bushes, while others paled in comparison but were still pleasant to look at. Fishing boats and kayakers sprinkled the surface here and there, and all throughout the ripples and waves glistened in the sun. Castiel found himself wanting something he’d never thought he would.

“They rent out canoes, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dean cut in, observational as ever.

And Dean was right. That’s exactly what he was thinking and they weren’t even facing each other. “Dean,” Castiel murmured, eyes glued to the lake, “This. This is…”

“Perfect?” Dean offered, and that’s when Castiel realized the car had come to a stop. They were parked in a campsite, and their view was fantastic.

Castiel spun back to face Dean and gave his best smile. It came effortlessly. Genuinely.

It was rare for him to smile so easily.

Too afraid to break it, Castiel just nodded, but did so excitedly. This was more than perfect. This was peaceful and beautiful, and for the next four days it was going to be just the two of them.

This was Heaven.

Dean laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair; Castiel happily let him do it. “Now do you see why I wanted you to come out here for so long?”

“You should’ve kidnapped and dragged me here,” he said, and that earned another laugh. “Seriously. I’ve never—this is my first time out of town in a _long_ while, and I—…” Castiel sighed. “I love it already.”

Castiel swore his beats-per-minute doubled when Dean flashed him a grin. Oh wow. He could tell Dean now. _Our view is perfect and might I say that you are also perfect and I love you for it and for everything else you’ve done for me—_

Wait. What was he thinking? They still had four days left. There was plenty of time to tell Dean how he felt, and a more fitting moment to do so was bound to happen at some point. Yeah. They’d only just arrived, after all. He couldn’t throw all those feelings on Dean after a long drive like that. So he could wait. He could definitely wait.

Willing his heart rate to recede back to normal, Castiel cleared his throat. He kept his gaze fixed away from Dean for good measure. “I uh, I really like it.” _And you_. “Thanks for taking me out here. Really.”

“Glad to hear,” Dean replied, giving a warm smile. “Now.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. “Let’s set up camp.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The form Dean handed him was simple enough to fill out. There were boxes to write their information in, and Castiel had done so to the best of his knowledge.

They’d just about finished setting up the tent, when Dean suggested they head over to the fee station and pay for their site. Not that they needed a break from setting up the tent. It wasn’t so hard, and the fact that it took Castiel twenty minutes just to figure out how the poles crossed—with Dean’s expert help—proved nothing. Any and all so-called “difficulty” was solely the tent’s doing. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that the last time Sam and Dean put it away, they’d just shoved it in the duffel bag all jumbled and dismembered. That was completely out of his control. Neither was it his fault that every time he tried tugging a pole through its designated slot, it fell apart at the joints. He wasn’t pulling too hard, he’d argued to a skeptical Dean. They simply weren’t strong enough. And the tent itself must’ve been sewn incorrectly or something. Certainly it was never meant to bend in _that_ direction.

Dean seemed rather amused by his confused efforts, guiding him in patient instructions with a laugh held at his lips. But the guy always had his limits, and at one point Dean gave up on trying to help and offered to set the damn thing up by himself. Castiel refused to let him, of course; it would only be rude to leave all the work to Dean. And no, he wasn’t being stubborn about it. He was just…determined. Yeah. He was determined to help Dean every step of the way, damn it, and that was final.

In the end, Castiel was very proud of Dean for being so patient with the tent.

Aside from the adventure that turned out to be, they’d also emptied the trunk of the car. Castiel wasn’t surprised at all to find that Dean lied to him about the “no fireworks” thing. Beneath a pile of blankets and pillows was a box filled with colorful cardboard tubes, words like “POW” and “BANG” printed all over them. When he confronted Dean about it, telling him he knew he was lying, Dean just laughed. With everything else they brought piled in the dirt, Dean suggested that they keep that box hidden in the trunk. For now.

Castiel asked if it was alright that they just leave their stuff out in the open, but Dean said they shouldn’t worry about it too much. Apparently people were far more trusting of others when camping. Like there was some sort of unspoken mutual agreement not to go around and steal each other’s things.

“I blame your worry on the fact that you’ve lived in a heavily guarded fortress your entire life,” Dean said, leaning against the “FEE STATION” sign. “So for the last time, Cas. Nobody’s gonna go down there and steal your trail mix.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just not used to the idea, alright?” Double-checking the spaces he’d written in, he handed Dean the envelope just to make sure he’d done it right. “I’m more worried about you leaving your car unlocked with the keys thrown in the seat. I’ve never seen you so…carefree, about her.” Dean never left his car lying around like that. He always kept the doors locked and window rolled up, even when he had it parked in his garage.

“I guess I just feel more at home here than I do at my actual house,” Dean shrugged. He hardly looked over the form before fishing through his jacket pockets for his wallet. “‘Sides. Baby can handle herself just fine out here.”

Dean tore the top form off the envelope. “Here,” he said, handing it to Castiel. “This is bascially our receipt. When we get back, you’re gonna put it on the dash or attach it to the rearview mirror. Somewhere Ellen can spot it easily.”

“Who’s Ellen?”

“The ray of sunshine who runs this joint.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Don’t lose it.”

“Right.” Castiel nodded. He carefully folded it into his pocket, but not without glancing over their total fee. It was nearly fifty dollars. “Uh, Dean? You’re not really going to pay for the whole stay, right? At least let me—”

“Hey. I can pay for this just fine. Because unlike you, I got a job.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already—”

“It was my idea to come here. This is my treat, my gift to you.” Looking him in the eye, Dean held out his hands. “So take it like one. Alright?”

Castiel shrugged. “If you insist. Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’ mention it.”

Dean whistled a tune as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet. Quickly counting what he had, the tune just as quickly died. Eyes darted to Castiel, then to his wallet, then back to Castiel.

“Got any ones?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and he reached for his own wallet. “How many do you need?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Dean.”

“Just three.”

“Here,” Castiel said once he handed the money over.

Dean frowned at it. “I still don’t know why you insist on carrying two-dollar bills, man.”

“They make my wallet half as cluttered as opposed to carrying ones,” Castiel defended with a shrug. “And don’t pay me back. It’s just three dollars.”

“Hey, that’s three more dollars not going towards your college tuition.” Before tucking his wallet away, Dean bopped it over Castiel’s head. “And you’re gonna need every cent you got.”

Dean very well knew that that was as lie, the sarcasm lacing his words assured Castiel of it. He tried laughing it off as a joke, but he couldn’t find any humor in it. It was just a reminder. A reminder that soon enough he was going to be leaving.

“You’re not paying me back, Dean,” he said. It came out solemnly, despite his effort to keep the words neutral. “And can we please not talk about college? I don’t want to be reminded of it now—not until I’m actually gone.”

Dean’s expression was as blank as he could manage. He nodded carefully, sealing the money in the envelope. He slipped it into the fee box. “Yeah, uh…sure thing, Cas. Not a word.”

“Thank you.”

“So uh…” Dean whipped up another smile. “Ready to finish the tent?”

Castiel grumbled. “Not unless it’s willing to do what it’s told.”

“Oh, it is. You’re just telling it all the wrong things.”

“Psh.”

“Ah, c’mon Cas. All that’s left is to strap on the rain fly and it’s good to go.”

“I still think it looked lopsided,” he grumbled. “We must’ve put something in the wrong place.”

For a moment, Dean considered that. “Nah,” he shook his head, “that’s just the uh, the uneven ground it’s on. Yeah. The ground. Making it look all...wonky…”

“How convincing,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Would you like to tear it down and start over?”

“You know what? I changed my mind, it looked perfect.”

Dean laughed, then gave him a gentle shove to start walking back towards camp. “That’s what I thought. Now. I say we take the rest of the day easy, after unpacking and sorting through everything else. Save up some energy for tomorrow.”

“Yeah? What’s planned for tomorrow?”

“That’s the thing, Cas—there is no plan. We’re gonna wing it.”

“Can we stop by the lake, perchance?” Castiel asked, offering Dean a hopeful grin.

“Sure, if you want to.”

“I really want to.”

“Alright, alright. I can at least promise you the lake, then.” Dean smiled back, effulgent joy beaming out. He crossed his arms behind his head and peered up at the cloudless sky. “Other than that, we have no plans but to do whatever the hell we feel like.”

Castiel hummed in response. That sounded good enough to him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Having set up the tent first made the rest of their unpacking a breeze. While Castiel had only brought a duffel bag for clothes, one pillow, and a satchel for carrying snacks and recreational items around, Dean had thrown in the Impala: his own backpack full of clothes, two tubs of food, fishing poles, rain gear, a portable table grill, his acoustic, paddles, inner tubes, life jackets, camping chairs, fire-freaking-works, and a cooler big enough to sit on if they were so inclined. Not to mention the firewood they picked up at Bobby’s and the tent, of course. Then there were the items for which to sleep on or with, taking up a good half of the trunk.

Working together, they’d gotten all of it in their proper places. Castiel took care of the outdoor setup, unfolding chairs and spreading out the tablecloth, while Dean was in the tent inflating the air mattress and taking care of sleeping arrangements. Castiel frequently asked him if certain items should go anywhere in particular, even if he had a pretty solid idea of what the answer might be. Dean politely answered every question using as many words as possible, just so they had something to keep a conversation going. It was nice just to hear him talk. It was even nicer knowing that after ten years of friendship, Dean was still willing to guide him through the small things, never running out of patience or explanations. By the time Castiel had run out of things to put in place, the sun was hiding behind the bristling trees, coloring the sky a pleasant shade of orange.

Castiel stepped back to view their temporary home. His blue and white checkered tablecloth underneath the grill and tubs of food. The firewood stacked in four identical piles beside the pit. Two folding chairs angled toward one another, facing a perfect view of the lake. The Impala parked behind him. Everything was where it should be, not because he’d taken Dean’s instructions to heart, but because it all simply seemed to belong here. Surely a hundred other families had set up camp here, but for the next four days it was theirs and theirs only. Nothing in the world was going to change that or take it away.

Humming happily, Castiel made his way over to the tent. “Almost done in there, Dean?”

“Come in and see for yourself.”

Castiel did as he was told. When he unzipped the tent door, he found a very shirtless Dean in the midst of changing clothes.

They’d been friends a long while now, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Plus, he’d seen Dean shirtless hundreds of times before, in the school locker rooms and when he came over to swim in his family’s pool. But this wasn’t the locker room or the pool. This was a place where Dean should’ve had his shirt on and damn it, that wasn’t very fair. He wasn’t prepared for this exceptionally pleasant view of Dean’s back.

That wasn’t very fair at all.

Castiel hardly noticed when Dean actually had another shirt on, his mind still set on those back dimples. They’d be the death of him, he swore. Placed so conveniently above that round ass, teasingly disguised beneath the fabric of...Wait. Since when did Dean wear sweatpants?

“What.”

Castiel jolted. “What?” he spat back, eyes frantically darting anywhere that wasn’t Dean. When did he turn around?

“Can I help you with somethin’?” Dean asked, surely raising an accusatory eyebrow.

_Hell yeah you can._

Castiel cleared his throat. He hoped it’d also help clear his rapidly decaying mind. “No, I uh...I just, zoned out for a second. Yeah. That’s all.”

“Ah.” Dean seemed to accept that answer easily enough. “You do that often enough, I guess.”

“Right…”

Alrighty then. Checking out the _tent_ , yes. That’s what he came here to do.

Doing his best to hide his blush, Castiel removed his shoes and stumbled into the tent. Dean laughed at him for even bothering to remove his shoes, and Castiel had a very hard time biting back the ‘at least I kept my shirt on’ remark fighting its way to his mouth. Instead, he just made a face when Dean wasn’t looking. Then he caught sight of the sleeping bag Dean let him borrow.

“It’s a Batman sleeping bag?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Yeah, so? That gonna be a problem?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not at all. I like it. It’s very...” He gave the print of Batman’s cold demeanor a moment’s consideration. “He’s got a very uh, _predatory_ look about him there.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. ‘S been bagging me since I was five.” He clasped a hand over Castiel’s shoulder, giving him a serious look. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Dean, you idiot.”

“You started it,” he childishly accused, giving Castiel’s shoulder another pat. Dean passed him and headed for the exit. “Close the zipper when you get back out here, alright? These mosquitos are friggin’ everywhere...”

“Will do,” he replied. And with Dean gone, maybe he could finally focus on what he was supposed to be doing.

Batman now properly discussed and dismissed, Castiel couldn’t help but notice the placement of Dean’s sleeping bag. Usually when they spent the night at each other’s houses, they’d sleep on the floor or separate couches, or simply wherever they ended up passing out. However it turned out, they rarely ever slept within close proximity to another, Dean very appreciative of his personal space, and Castiel doing his darndest to be respectful of it.

So he was more than a little surprised to find that Dean spread out both their sleeping bags on the mattress. Right next to each other, side by side. Even overlapping a bit.

He wasn’t about to question it, though.

Aside from that, their bags were neatly tossed in the far corners of the tent. There were small netted pockets hanging off each side, one occupied by Dean’s lighter and wallet. The other was left empty for Castiel’s use, and he figured it’d be a good place to keep his glasses when he didn’t need them. Overall, the tent wasn’t huge or anything, but it felt cozy and fit their belongings comfortably. If it weren’t for the lake right outside, he’d want to spend most of his time in here, wrapped up in one of the blankets Dean brought.

Seeing that Dean made an effort to change into something more comfortable, Castiel figured it wouldn’t hurt to change into his pajamas so soon. Hoping Gabriel hadn’t stolen them this time, he started rummaging through his duffel bag. He was relieved to find them right where he left them, tucked in the corner under three other changes of clothes. He grabbed them and changed well out of sight of the door, unlike someone else around here. He didn’t bother closing his bag back up once he was finished.

When he stepped out of the tent, he found Dean faced towards the table and laughing. “Well son of a bitch. You really did bring a tablecloth.”

“I told you I would, didn’t I? It was just collecting dust in one of our closets,” Castiel defended with a shrug. He bent over to zip the tent back up. “And I figured I should at least bring something…”

“Well, it does look nice out here. Good job, Cas.”

“Thank you.”

“Now,” Dean sighed as he plopped down at the table. He reached to open the cooler beside his knee and asked, “You hungry?”

After slipping his shoes back on, Castiel followed his lead and headed for the seat just across from him. His grumbly stomach answered Dean’s question before he could even sit down. Propping his elbows on the table, Castiel let his chin fall into his palms. He quietly watched as Dean pulled two plastic-wrapped hoagies out of the cooler and handed one over. “One deluxe, fresh-from-the-carrion-pile turkey sub, comin’ right up.”

“How delectable,” Castiel deadpanned as he unwrapped his sandwich. “So what’s in it this time? Minced meat, or roadkill?”

Dean gave his own sub an inquisitive look, shrugged, then took a bite far too big for his big mouth. “Found it in a plastic bag labeled ‘lunch meat,’ stuffed in the back of the fridge. Could be both.”

“Once again, your exquisite taste in fine dining continues to astound me.”

Still chewing, Dean cracked open a soda and lifted it in the air. “Cheers.”

Castiel judged his sandwich was safe enough to eat (though Dean’s choices in food were questionable at times), and took a manageable bite. While Dean’s sub was filled with what looked like chili, Castiel’s was in fact turkey, loaded with tomato slices and smothered in ranch. Just the way he liked it. The lettuce gave  a pleasant crunch, and the mix of flavors was completed with his favorite type of cheese. The bread was a tad soggy on the edges, but that could only be expected as it sat in the cooler for a few hours.

When his mouth was only partially stuffed, Dean spoke, “I’m thinkin’ burgers for tomorrow night.”

“I thought we weren’t making plans for tomorrow,” Castiel recalled, popping a rogue tomato slice into his mouth.

“Hey. You get the lake, so I get burgers.”

Castiel was about to ask how he’d even cook them, when he remembered the table grill that was currently placed just to his left. “Fair enough,” he said, and took another bite. God, he didn’t care how terrible Dean made his food sound. Dean made the best sandwiches.

“So,” Dean traded his food for his soda. “Because I’m curious and was too afraid to ask until now, what convinced your mom to let you come this time?”

Castiel swallowed his food slowly, effectively stalling his reply. “Well...first of all, it didn’t take any convincing—on my part, anyway.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

Castiel gingerly tapped his fingers against the table, hesitant to explain. “See, she kind of thinks I’m staying with Balthazar for the next four days?”

Dean nearly coughed up his drink. After wiping his mouth, he gave a prompting, “Go on.”

“Since I haven’t seen him in a good handful of years, it was a good enough lie to say that I wanted to see him before going off to college. My mother bought it, cleared any plans she had for me, and now she thinks he’s the one that picked me up today. So here I am.”

“Wait, wait.” Dean set down his food completely, as if his voracious appetite had suddenly died. “Didn’t he just get out of prison?”

“Yeah. That’s why I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“And your mom, she’d still rather think you’re with your crazy uncle instead of me?”

“Well, yes, but—yeah. You know how she is.”

For a moment, Dean looked genuinely offended. “How could I be worse than freaking _Balthazar?”_

“Dean,” Castiel sighed. “Only the worst of people are good enough for my mother, and that is the only reason why you are at the absolute bottom of her list.”

“And so that’s it, you just lied?” When Castiel nodded, Dean’s expression shifted to a particular level of annoyance. “Well if it was that friggin’ simple, why hadn’t you done it before??”

“Because lying to my mom means I might as well be digging my own grave. I never even thought of trying it before. And it was Gabriel’s idea, actually. Not mine. I hadn’t even asked her if I could come on this trip with you yet, when she came knocking on my door telling me I could go. I was just as confused as you are, but Gabe was behind her, gesturing I just go along with it. When she left my room, Gabe explained what he said to her and that Balthazar was already on board with it. I figured if she thought I was going away anyway, then I didn’t need to explain what our real plans were.

“Which reminds me. You’re gonna have to drop me off at his house, when we get back. He and my mother expect us there by noon.”

Dean considered that for a minute, when things got uncomfortably quiet. Prone to fidget at moments like these, Castiel kept his hands and mouth busy with his sandwich.

Then Dean laughed. “Balthazar. Seriously?”

Castiel groaned. “I know. Trust me, I _know_. But it was good enough for her, so.” He waved a hand in the air.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re finally standing up to her. In your own, secretive, Cas-tastic way.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but at the thought of his mother rather than at Dean. “She makes absolutely no sense to me.”

“Yeah. Makes me wonder what she’s gonna think when you return home smellin’ like fire and lookin’ like you forgot how to shower.”

“Simple. She’d think I had a fun time at Balthazar’s.”

“Wow.” Dean picked up his sandwich again. “Your family, man.”

They finished their meal in some level of silence, mostly because Dean was too busy inhaling his food to speak. Castiel teased that the drive must’ve taken a lot of energy out of him, to which Dean had replied, “Of course it did. All that marvelous singing didn’t happen on its own.” Dean managed to down another soda after his first, while Castiel took to having a chilled bottle of water. Once their sandwiches disappeared, Dean set free an obnoxious belch, officially marking the end of their meal.

“Uhf. That hit the spot.”

“Everything hits your spot.”

Dean laughed at that. “Eventually, yes.”

“What’s that supposed to—nevermind.” Castiel shook his head. “Anyways. Got room for more?”

“Kind of. Why?”

“Because…” He inched over to the cooler.

“Ooh. You revealing the mystery item to me?” Dean seemed to perk up at that possibility.

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a laugh. He’d almost forgotten to grab it, before they left. Thankfully Gabriel was there to remind him last minute. He recalled the way Dean curiously eyed the paper bag he’d slipped into the cooler and asked what was in it. _It’s a surprise_ , he’d said. And now he was going to reveal it.

Upon opening the cooler, Castiel easily spotted the bag and snatched it up. He was excited to give it to Dean, but nervous at the same time. He’d made it himself with Gabe as his official taste tester. But if anything, his older brother had a sweet tooth, and if he said it tasted fine, then it must’ve tasted fine.

But what if “fine” wasn’t good enough?

“Here,” Castiel said, handing the bag over before he talked himself out of it. “For you.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he accepted it, perhaps surprised by the gesture. “Oh,” he said quietly. “What is it?”

“Just open it.”

Pursing his lips, Dean removed the tape holding the bag closed and unrolled the top. Castiel fidgeted as he waited for Dean to take it out.

Dean gasped. “No way.” He took out the fork on top, the miniature pie following shortly after. “You brought me a pie?”

“I brought you a pie,” Castiel laughed, feeling proud. He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as Dean transformed into a child before him. “You’re welcome.”

“You brought me a pie,” Dean said one last time, as if he couldn’t believe it. He removed the plastic covering and grabbed the fork. Castiel would’ve laughed again, if it hadn’t looked like Dean was about to cry. “And it’s apple.”

“I know apple is your favorite.”

“It’s so cute and small…” Dean mused, holding it to feel its weight. “Where’d you get it?”

Castiel scratched his neck shyly. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day you unironically said the word ‘cute’.”

Dean blinked. He licked his lips. “...I’m going to eat this now.”

“You do that.”

Without another word, Dean scooped up a forkful of pie and shoved it in his mouth. To Castiel’s relief, he closed his eyes and moaned around the bite. “My god,” he muttered.

“So, it’s good?”

“It’s friggin’ delicious.”

“That’s good.” He tried not to sound so proud of that. “Sorry it isn’t warm anymore. That couldn’t really be avoided...”

Dean proceeded to take many other bites, an appreciative noise following each one. Having tasted none of it because of his allergies, Castiel was afraid Gabriel might’ve tricked him into making an awful pie. But the way Dean was shoveling it into his mouth told him otherwise.

“Where the hell did you get this thing?” Dean asked, and Castiel decided he couldn’t avoid that question any longer.

“I uh, I made it.”

Dean stopped chewing. He swallowed. He narrowed his eyes. “You made it.”

“With some help from Gabe,” Castiel admitted. “But yes. I made it.”

“Well. That settles it.” Dean set his fork down. “You’re staying with me and making me pies the rest of my life.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “As much as I’d love to be your personal maid, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun. You’ll even get to wear a little uniform, with the dress, apron, bonnet—the whole nine yards. You’re into that, right?”

“Oh, go to hell.” Castiel propped his elbow on the table and let his head fall into his hand. “But in all seriousness,” he began, feeling the butterflies rustle in his tummy, “I made you the pie to say thanks. For being patient enough to wait so long for this trip, and for everything, really. For always being there for me, even when everyone else would’ve left me alone. I’d be very lost without you, Dean. You are and always will be my best friend, and I deeply appreciate our memories and time together. I hope myself and the pie convey that well.”

Castiel willed himself to keep eye contact throughout the whole spiel, but now he was almost regretting it. Dean’s eyes danced away more often than not towards the end; it felt like he was scaring him away. Then he was fidgeting in place. Biting his nails. Dean being Dean, Castiel wasn’t sure if any of it actually got through that impenetrable emotional barrier of his. But if he had yet to tell him how he really felt, then he had to tell him that much, at least.

Castiel waited for any sort of signal across the table, but Dean turned to stone. The bite of pie he’d last taken was stuck in his cheek, bulging out to the side. Their eyes finally met, clicked into place and now they were caught in the middle of one of their abnormally long staring contests. Not that Castiel felt it was abnormal. He rather enjoyed it when he managed to snag Dean’s complete attention. Dean would stare back with the intent to rip through his mind, and Castiel tried keeping an open expression because of it. _Go on. Figure me out. I dare you._

Then Dean slapped on a smile and resumed chewing. “The pie speaks plenty for the both of you.”

And that was his cue to shut up.

“Right…” Castiel dropped his gaze. “I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s a shame you’re allergic to apples. You’re missin’ out.”

Castiel smiled back, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He expected Dean to at least offer a few thoughtful words in return. But that was just wishful thinking. Dean had a chronic case of emotional constipation, after all. The most he should’ve hoped for was a strangled “thanks.” Well, Dean was eating the pie at a healthier rate now, perhaps doing so to savor and appreciate it more. So there was that, at least.

Maybe he shouldn’t tell him. Ten years of friendship, and Dean couldn’t even return a simple platonic sentiment. How on Earth would he react if Castiel told him he liked his face?

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Go find a stick.”

“A stick?” Dean nodded. Castiel squinted. “What for?”

“For eating.”

Castiel blinked. “You want me to eat a stick.”

“What? No.”

“I give you a pie,” he stated blankly, staring at something that wasn’t in front of him. Then waved his hands at it. “And now you tell me to eat a stick.”

“You don’t eat it, dumbass, you roast food on it.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Go cut one off a tree and bring it back. One that isn’t dead and dry.”

“I can do that?”

“You sure can.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded knife. “Here. That should help. Now shoo, I’ve got a fire to start.”

“Um. Alright, then.”

Pushing his glasses up, Castiel stood and left the campsite. Sure, there were trees at the site, but they were fir trees and he didn’t think that’d work so well. A belittling “Don’t get lost” sounded from Dean as he crossed the dirt road.

An expanse of forestry stood waiting on the other side. Castiel stopped just at its edge, the tallest trees he’d ever seen rustling calmly overhead. Squinting, he peered into the woods only to find that much of it was hidden in shadows. With the sun already disappearing over the hills, the crowns weren’t doing much to help let light through. All those branches and shadows looming in the way, there was no decipherable end. Suddenly he was taking Dean’s warning to not get lost much more seriously.

Castiel looked to his sides and spotted a smallish tree with branches that seemed to suit what he had in mind. Luckily they weren’t too high up on the trunk, and so he was able to reach one with ease. He flicked the pocketknife open and touched it to the base of the branch. Just as he started cutting, a flicker of light from the woods caught his eye.

“Hm?” When he really looked, it appeared more as a soft glow than a flicker. The light floated about, a yellowish-green orb fading in and out of existence. Then another one appeared. And another.

“How strange…” Castiel mumbled to no one in particular. He dropped his hands and slipped the knife in his pocket. The branch would have to wait, because there was no way he wasn’t checking this out.

He stepped into the forest, all curiosity and no caution. Except for when he looked back to make sure he could still see the car from where he walked. The ground drooped down quite a ways at one point, but he could still see enough to where it hadn’t caught him by surprise. The orbs were a little further out than he’d initially judged, but as long as he could see which direction pointed back to camp he assumed he would be fine.

By the time he reached the lights, three more had appeared. They moved slowly and smoothly around him, seemingly unaffected by his presence. A giddy sense of wonder bubbled in his chest as he watched them drift through the air in silence. What were they? Just orbs of light, or something physical?  Light couldn’t ball up like this on its own, let alone appear from nowhere. It was a strange phenomenon, and Castiel wasn’t leaving until he figured it out.

The orbs drifted further, beckoning him to follow. With each step he made, Castiel felt his feet sink a little. It was only mildly concerning, until he looked down and realized it was just the thick moss making the ground feel all spongy. More and more orbs were starting to show, all floating in their own wayward directions. Their radiance bounced off nearby trees, giving the leaves and bark a faint ambient glow. Castiel didn’t know which to follow, so he stopped and simply watched them dance around him. He spun in slow circles, mesmerized the peculiar sight. It felt like he was in a fairy tale.

One orb floated just in front of his nose, and without his consent, his hands reached up to grab it. It didn’t put up much of a fight, its calm demeanor never faltering. It simply let itself be captured. Castiel’s fingers gently cocooned it, and felt whatever it was tickle his palm. With a gentle sort of caution, he brought his hands closer and peeked inside.

It was a bug.

Oh. Well that only made sense. What else could they have been?

Castiel laughed at himself for not having figured it out sooner, and set it free. He’d have to bring Dean over here and show him. Even though he knew what they were now, they were still fascinating to watch. Surely Dean would think the same thing—

“Cas? ‘The hell did you go? Cas!” Speak of the devil.

Castiel spun to meet the direction of his voice. Fortunately, he hadn’t ventured too deep in the woods and could still make out the end. Not so fortunately, Dean’s silhouette trudged across it. Judging by the way he stomped around, he wasn’t too happy.

Dean called out to him again, and Castiel scurried on back. He tripped over a tree root only once, narrowly missing another after that. He was clumsy enough to call that a win.

Once he was close enough, he spoke up. “Calm your tits, Dean. I’m right here.”

“Cas??”

With his arms folded behind his back, Castiel approached the edge. He poked his head out of the woods. Dean looked at him as a parent would after their kid ran off in the store. “I gave you one job, man,” he said, pointing a finger in his direction. “One job.”

Castiel swatted his finger away and grabbed his wrist. “You have to see this. Follow me—”

“I even told you not to get lost,” Dean continued, ignoring the tug on his arm. “And what do you do?”

“Dean—”

“You get lost!”

“Listen to me!” Castiel exclaimed. His excitement hadn’t been dampened by the lecture in the slightest. Dean finally clamped his mouth shut and gave him a mockingly attentive look. “I wasn’t lost. I found something amazing, and you have to come see it too. Please?”

Before he could protest or agree, Castiel was dragging him off into the forest.

“Where the hell are we going?”

“Just follow me. Please?” As if he was giving Dean a choice. “Don’t you see them?”

“See what?

“ _Them_.”

Once they’d made it to the same spot Castiel reached before, he stopped. “I was cutting off a branch like you told me to,” he explained, “when…”

Castiel dropped his hold on Dean. With the bugs surrounding them in their glow, he reached out and captured one in his palms. He brought it over to Dean. “...When I saw these lights,” he finished, setting it free between them. “After a while I found out they were just insects, but they’re still beautiful to watch and I just...I just wanted to show you. That’s all.”

It seemed Dean couldn’t have cared less about it, but he glanced about their surroundings for Castiel’s sake.

He nodded. “I see you’ve discovered fireflies.”

_Fireflies_. He’d have to remember that. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Laughing softly, Dean uncrossed his arms. “Yeah, Cas. They are.”

“I want them.”

“You already have a ton of bees. I don’t think they’d get along all that well.”

“Hey. My bees are plenty behaved, thank you. They’d get along just fine.”

Dean took a step back, and Castiel took that as permission to continue running around like a child. And, well, what kind of person would Castiel be to pass up the opportunity? Catch after catch, he held a firefly in his palm, and watched it closely until it was ready to take flight. Then he ran off again, only ever standing still once he had a new firefly in his hands.

After a while, Castiel glanced over to find Dean leant against a tree. He was watching with a silent stare, a fond smile stretching his mouth. He hadn’t caught a single one.

Castiel looked at the firefly in his palms, then back at Dean, and closed his hands. He approached his friend daintily and held his hands out. “Here,” he said. When Dean stood up straight and mirrored his stance, he let the firefly drift out of his hands and into Dean’s. “Now wait for me to get one.”

Dean tried to hold in a laugh, but he was failing miserably.

“What?” Castiel asked, noting the way Dean’s shoulders bounced with the suppressed laughter.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. You’re just…” He cleared his throat. “You’re such a child, Cas.”

Castiel stuck his tongue out at that, because that certainly helped his case. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Whatever. Just wait here.”

“You got it, kiddo.”

“Shut up.”

He wasn’t a child. He just discovered a species of insects with glowy butts! Who wouldn’t be excited?

Fairly familiar with their flight patterns at this point, Castiel had another firefly in his palms in no time. He brought it and himself back over to Dean. “Okay, we’ll release them on three.” He stretched his arms out forward. “One, two…you have to count with me, Dean.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he reached his arms out too. “Such a child.”

“Just count with me, damn it. You’re ruining the moment.”

“Children shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m not a child! Now they’re going to suffocate and die in our palms if we don’t do it already!”

“Okay! Fine! Sheesh. One…”

Castiel joined in, albeit grumpily. “ ‘Two, three!’ ”

They unclasped their hands and the fireflies drifted away.  And, well, there they went. Just two stupid dots, aimlessly floating through the dark. They at least seemed to stick close to each other, but other than that, there wasn’t anything magical about it at all.

“Wow,” Dean breathed, every drop of amazement entirely feigned.

Castiel grumbled. “Well, great. Thanks for ruining it.”

“Ah c’mon, Cas,” Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulder and trapped him in a noogie. “As long as we did it together, right? That’s all that matters.”

“Unhand me, you ass.”

Dean laughed, but did what he was told. “Now come on. We should get back to camp. I already started a fire, and it’s not the greatest idea to leave it unattended this long.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Castiel spat, but he fell into step just beside Dean anyway.

“Yet here you are, marching right along with me.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you quit bein’ such a baby.”

“I thought I was a child, Dean.”

“Nope. Not anymore. You just got demoted to full-on baby, baby.”

Castiel tried staying mad, but it was kind of impossible when Dean just called him “baby,” intentional petname or not.

Dean wound up cutting the branch off of the tree for him. He handed it over once they crossed back into their site. He told Castiel to do the rest himself.

“What rest?”

“Cut off the smaller branches and sharpen the end. Like a spear.”

“Oh,” Castiel sat down on the camping chair adjacent to Dean’s. “Right.”

The fire crackled calmly before them, warming Castiel’s knees through his pajamas. Dean was rummaging through a tub of food, then the cooler as Castiel tried doing as he was instructed.  The “cutting off the small branches” part had been easy enough, but sharpening the end was proving to be more difficult of a task.

Dean plopped down beside him with an armful of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows. He set the chocolate in Castiel’s cupholder, the box of crackers beside his feet, and the marshmallows in his lap. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he muttered. Castiel just grumbled in return, too concentrated on the task at hand to acknowledge him.

Dean could only sit aside and watch him struggle for so long, apparently. “Rest your thumb against the dull edge of the blade. It’ll help you aim the pressure better. And quit pushin’ down so hard.”

Castiel gave him a look, but did as he was told.

Huh. It was easier. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Dean pat his back and stood. “Your whittling technique just needed a little…‘sharpening up,’ is all.”

“Oh my god.” Castiel shot him a glare over the frames of his glasses. “You didn’t just—”

“I did.”

“Wow.”

Dean gave him another pat for good measure. “I’ll be right back. No more running off into the woods, got it?”

“Where are you going?”

“Off into the woods.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Hypocrite.”

“To take a piss.”

“Ah. Got it.” Castiel returned his attention to the task at hand. After a few more pieces were shaved off, he figured it was good enough. He’d managed to sharpen the end without cutting any of his fingers too deeply, so that was a plus. He held the branch out to admire his newfound woodworking skills, then set it aside to wait for Dean. It wasn’t until then that he realized there’d been a bag of marshmallows unceremoniously tossed into his lap.

By the time Dean got back, he still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with them.

“Dean?”

He was holding his guitar case as he plopped down into the chair next to him. “Cas.”

“Why is there a bag of marshmallows sitting in my lap?”

Dean pretended to consider that for a moment. “Because you haven’t given it enough money to do any more than that yet? But it’s a patient bag, and it’s willing to do anything with you for that extra buck.”

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“The bag is, too.” Dean shrugged, “If you’re willing to pay, I mean.”

“Since when were you a pimp for marshmallow prostitutes?”

“Since three seconds ago.” Dean popped open his guitar case. After placing the guitar over his leg, he slung the strap over his shoulder and began plucking absentmindedly. “Chubs Bunny, she’s my best girl. You can stuff her like a turkey—in more than one place. Won’t say a damn thing about it.”

“Will you shut up? God.”

“Hey, you asked.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I sharpened the dumb stick for you. Now what?”

“You skewer a marshmallow with it and roast it’s fluffy ass, that’s what.”

“For the love of God, Dean, the joke’s over—”

“I was actually serious that time.”

“No you weren’t—”

“Yes I was! It’s called making a damn s’more.”

“...Oh.”

Dean shook his head. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“Just play your guitar, Dean.”

“Mr. Bossypants…” Dean whined, but starting tuning anyway. They fell silent as Castiel opened the bag of marshmallows and took one out, the sound of fire cracking and Dean’s guitar giving them something to listen to. The crickets were only just beginning to chirp, the rustling of trees dying with the calming wind. Castiel was about to put the marshmallow on the stick, when Dean stopped him. “You burn the tip yet?”

“Of the stick? No.”

“You should do that first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Castiel shot him a look.

“Plus, it helps keep the gross treebranch juice from seepin’ into your food.”

“Oh. Well in that case.” Castiel held the stick in the flames. Because it’d just get sticky and gross if he just held it, he popped the marshmallow into his mouth.

Dean checked the tuning of his guitar one last time, humming the notes to make sure they matched. Only the third string needed retuning, which wasn’t a surprise. That one always seemed to give him trouble.

Dean started off with a handful of chords to warm up, then switched to scales when the movements became comfortable and familiar again. He quietly hummed along, knowing how each and every note would sound before it was plucked. He didn’t need to tell himself when to switch over from warm ups to actual playing. It just sort of happened, the last steps of an A major scale leading into a song he knew well and had played a hundred times in a hundred different ways. One he always started a jam session with.

“ _‘Leaves are falling all around, time I was on my way...’_ ” Dean sang quietly. Though his so-called singing was downright horrific in the car earlier that day, he wasn’t too bad when he actually tried. Castiel let the words surround him, the music fill him. It was much more warming than the fire.

Then out of nowhere, Castiel remembered he was supposed to be toasting marshmallows. He grabbed a few from the bag. He waited until Dean had a lyric break.

“Are you going to have any?”

Dean shook his head as he continued strumming. “Nah. That pie left no room.”

Well, phooey. He was hoping Dean would have at least one s’more. That way he could watch how they were toasted. He would ask Dean, but he was already caught in the middle of another verse. So he just sorta held it over the flames, slowly rotating it to even things out. He would’ve felt foolish asking Dean anyway.

No part of the marshmallow was changing color. But if Castiel held it any closer to the flames, it’d catch fire. So he kept turning it every now and then, hoping one side would come up golden at some point. But he just kept turning, and turning.

And turning. And nothing was happening.

Castiel sighed. “This is taking too long.”

Dean ignored his complaint. “C’mon Cas, I know you know the words.” His foot bounced as he strummed and sang. “ _‘How years ago in days of old when magic filled the air...’_ ”

Castiel grinned. Okay, might as well join in. “ _‘T’was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair. But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her.’_ ”

Dean’s voice spun out into a half-scream as he continued, and Castiel decided it was best that he sang the rest on his own. “ _‘I’m gonna ramble on, sing my song, gonna work my way around the world...’_ ” Dean shut his eyes as he strummed harder, his whole body rocking to the song as it swept him up and carried him away. “ ‘ _Ah-doo, doo, doo, doo, doo my baby!’_ ”

Dean dealt with the end of the song a different way each time he played it. With lyrics on top of lyrics, he chose to mesh them together this time, trying his best to make sense of them all at once. It sounded rather mumbly and cacophonous, but he owned up to it and shamelessly made it his own. It was such a Dean-like thing for him to do, and Castiel wouldn’t trade listening to it for anything.

Soon enough the song faded into an end, and it was over. Dean nodded and opened his eyes.

“Marshmallow’s on fire.”

“Hm?” Castiel peeled his eyes off of Dean, only to see that he was right. The stick had suddenly turned into a torch, the marshmallow encompassed in flames. He instinctively lifted it from the flames and blew air onto it. Like it was salvageable at this point.

When the ball of flames was extinguished, the marshmallow looked like a sad, droopy lump of coal.

“Damn it,” Castiel sighed. “I was being so careful, too.”

“Not careful enough, apparently,” Dean laughed. “So. You gonna eat it?”

“Of course not. It’s charred to a crisp.”

“Oh good. Then give it to me.”

“But you said—”

“Cas, if you’re not gonna eat a perfectly burnt marshmallow, then I will.”

No further protests, Castiel handed the stick over in silence. He wasn’t really going to eat it, was he?

After waving it around for a few seconds, Dean judged it had cooled off enough and was safe to pop in his mouth. Castiel made sure he looked at him with a “did you seriously just put that in your mouth?” sort of face.

“What?”

“That’s disgusting.”

Dean shrugged. “Tastes fine to me.”

“Yeah, well. You also like your coffee black, so...”

“Hey, not my fault your tastebuds can’t handle it.”

“It’s a wonder that yours can.”

“Just let me know when you burn another one, alright?” Dean shifted sideways and slung his legs over the arm of his chair. His guitar rested over his waist as he slumped back into the other arm. “I’ve got another song to play.”

“What is it this time?”

“Some Rolling Stones, baby,” Dean singsonged, plucking the intro of _Play With Fire_.

Castiel bobbed his head to the rhythm as he got another marshmallow ready. He told himself to focus this time and not let it touch the flames. Of course, that didn’t stop him from getting lost in Dean’s voice once he started singing again. The marshmallow inevitably caught fire, and Castiel was yet again too late to save it. “Dude, seriously?” was the reaction he got from Dean mid-song. He ate the burnt marshmallow without complaint, though, and was soon back on track with his music.

Castiel did his best to block that out. His third attempt ended successfully because of it, and he was rather proud. But he did make the mistake of not setting out the rest of the s’more beforehand. Getting the graham crackers out of the box wasn’t so hard, but out of the package was another story. He needed both his hands free, so he leant the marshmallow stick against his chair for the time being. The plastic wrapping put up more of a fight than he expected, and when he finally managed to tear it open, his elbow knocked over the stick and sent it straight to the ground. When he picked it up, it was clear the marshmallow had been smothered in dirt. Dean had enough sense to _not_ eat that one, so, with a pout, Castiel tossed it in the fire.

He had the graham crackers and chocolate ready to go on his next attempt. After a minute or so of brainlessly rotating the marshmallow around, Dean told him, “It goes a lot quicker if you toast it by the coals, you know. And it won’t catch fire so easily.”

“You couldn’t have told me that before?” Castiel groaned.

“How else would I have gotten two burnt marshmallows out of you?”

“I don’t know, by asking maybe?”

“I’m no beggar, Cas.”

“Yeah. Just manipulative is all.”

“Exactly. Works like a charm.”

Castiel sighed. “Only you, Dean.”

He went on to put his s’more together as Dean played a song he couldn’t recognize. Maybe he was making one up. The way he fumbled with the chord progression and repeated a few short tunes with some alterations told Castiel that was probably the case.

“Working on something new?”

“Nah, just messin’ around.”

“It sounds good. Maybe you should develop it a bit more.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel nodded. “Yeah. I like your music.”

Dean gave a shy grin—that was rare. “It’s not music. It’s just...noise.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? It’s music.”

“So how’s that s’more, Cas?”

“Hm?” Castiel glanced down at the sticky snack in his hands. The chocolate had melted fast. “I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Then shut up and take a bite.”

He wanted to let Dean know how talented he was, that he really could make it as a musician if he wanted—and he did—but Castiel guessed that’d have to be a conversation for later. The way he avoided the subject and all…

So he took a bite of his s’more like he was told, and—wow. _Wow_.

“Holy crap,” Castiel said around the bite, “that is good.”

First thing to hit him was how sweet it was. The toasted surface of the marshmallow added just enough edge to keep it from becoming sickeningly so. The chocolate brought a smile to his face as it continued to melt in his mouth. The soft puff of the marshmallow paired with the hard crunch of graham crackers made for an interesting chewing experience. It was all very dry, however, the sugary flavors amplifying Castiel’s thirst bite after bite. Sugar did deliciously awful things to his mind, making him ignore the sad, tiny voice in the pit of his stomach telling him it was too sweet. He munched and swallowed the rest with a grin.

He wanted some more.

“Aw, look at you,” Dean teased, flashing a charming smile. “How’s it feel to lose your s’more-virginity?”

“Scrumptious,” Castiel replied easily. He was already working on setting out graham crackers for the next. “Wait. My ‘s’more virginity’?”

“Yeah. That was your first one, right?”

Castiel tipped his head up, a small ‘oh’ forming on his lips. He nodded. “Right.”

Dean nodded right back. “Yeah. Having your first s’more is supposed to be like, a special life event or somethin’. ”

“Oh. Really?” Castiel looked down at his lap. There were so many crumbs. “Had you told me sooner, Dean, I would’ve treated it as such.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s not that big’a deal. I don’t even remember my first s’more. Must’ve been...four years old, maybe?”

“Ah. Four years old. What a time to lose your s’more-virginity.”

Dean snorted, “Yeah. Nothin’ like losing the real thing, though.” Shifting in his seat, he brushed a few strings on his guitar by accident. “Not that you would know. You friggin’ cherry.”

“Yeah, well. Baby steps,” Castiel managed as casually as possible. He thanked the orange glow of the fire for hiding his blush. “S’more virginity today, real deal...sometime in the distant future.”

“Dude, you’re going to college,” Dean said rather matter-of-factly. “I’m going to be extremely disappointed if you don’t waste your parent’s money by partying, getting drunk, _and_ getting laid every other night.”

“Shall I do it in that order?” Castiel deadpanned.

“That’s up to you, man. Long as you don’t forget the ‘every other night’ thing. That part’s important.”

Castiel tried maintaining some level of seriousness, but a quiet laugh slipped out instead. “We agreed not to talk about college, did we not?”

“Hey, if you’re gonna go off into the big wide world without me, I gotta make sure you do it right.”

_Without me._

And just like that, the remnants of his laughter slowly drained from his face.

It was a frightening thought, stepping out into a world so much larger than his own. Sure, his life at home was chaotic and busy and an absolute mess at times, but at least it was familiar. At least here, he knew where to find Dean, where the constellations shone at night. But within days all of that was going to change. He wouldn’t be able to sneek past the security systems and run off to Dean’s house in the middle of the night or when he was supposed to be practicing on his cello. And the stars would move in unfamiliar patterns, he was sure of it.

Castiel slumped forward in his chair. Nothing was going to be the same, was it?

It was a depressing thought, more than anything.

Castiel didn’t stop the marshmallow from catching on fire this time. He saw it coming; the flames danced dangerously close, the end of the stick dropped deeper into the fire when his arm suddenly felt a hundred pounds heavier. The marshmallow was even coming out to be a nice even, golden-brown, much unlike his previous unfortunate victims. But he hadn’t the will to stop it. Huffing out a sigh, he let the fire consume his treat, charcoaling his tried efforts away.

Then a flicker of light caught his eye.

Castiel glanced over the fire. It was too yellow, too calm and far away to be a spark from the flames. The moment the light glowed again, he knew what it was.

It was a firefly.

Apparently it was dark enough for them to come out of the forest. Castiel watched it float around in renewed awe, still unused to the wonder they beared. Just like earlier, another soon flickered into existence, drifting alongside the first. Both gently bobbed around the car, often in their own directions but never straying far from each other.

Castiel caught himself grinning. What was he even getting sad about, again?

“Just wait till the stars come out,” Dean droned over his quiet strumming. After catching Castiel’s eyes, he grinned. “Now _those_ are beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Castiel returned a small smile.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. You think they look great through that little telescope of yours, but uh, out here, away from the lights...man.” He continued strumming for a minute, picking up on the tune he was improvising earlier. He looked up at Cas, the fire making his eyes glow. “They really come out of hiding.”

“...Oh.”  Castiel probably could’ve come up with a better reply than that, if it weren’t for Dean pinning him down with those absurdly green eyes. Dean fixed his gaze, his hands surely playing on auto-pilot at this point.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Dean.”

“...” He opened his mouth to speak, but paused and shut it a second later as if changing what he was about to say. Castiel wished he’d said it anyway.

Dean tipped his head towards the pit. “Marshmallow’s on fire. Again.”

“Hm? Oh. Uh…” Castiel gingerly lifted it from the flames. “That was on purpose, that time…”

“Uh uh.”

“Shut up.”

Castiel decided it was time to give up on s’mores for the night. After finding a safe place to prop up the roasting stick, he settled back in his chair. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin there. With the fire so close, the night air felt cool against his back. The breeze toyed with his hair. Dean lazily plucked the strings.

“I’m gettin’ tired of this song. Got any requests?”

Castiel shook his head. “Only that you keep doing what you’re doing.”

Dean tapped out a quick rhythm and started the tune over again. Castiel grinned. When he first learned to play, Dean made tone deaf goats sound good. But that was five years ago, and now Dean could play anything. Any chord, any tune, any progression. He could move his fingers across the fretboard at record speeds and not a note would be out of place. He could play by ear like nobody’s business, and would often improvise his own versions of songs if he didn’t know the exact notes. He could drum out a beat on the guitar if he was having a good day. He could play until his fingers bled, and on some occasions that never stopped him. He could make a happy song sad, an angry song calm. Whatever his mood, it would come through his fingertips in the form music. It was the only way Dean openly let his thoughts and feelings be known.

Castiel smiled. It was the only music he ever needed to hear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Wow.”

“Told you so.”

“Wow.”

Castiel knew how many stars were out there. Well, he knew as much as one boy with a telescope and self-inflicted knowledge of astronomy could—but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was previously aware of how copious and bright the stars could be. He’d observed them over countless nights, after all. But that couldn’t account for how they looked on a clear night like this. Not even close.

The stars were downright gorgeous out here. And Castiel couldn’t, for the life of him, look away.

“Wow,” he repeated a third time, in case Dean hadn’t gotten the message yet. “Just...wow.”

From some feet away, Dean laughed softly. “Once again, I told you so.”

Dean had put his guitar back in the car and grabbed a water from the cooler a while ago. He’d done a wonderful job distracting Castiel as the stars came out of hiding. They chatted for a while, but Castiel couldn’t remember a word of it at the moment, now that he was caught up in the stars. In fact, he couldn’t seem to remember any words at all, save for “just” and “wow.” Never had he seen so many other stars shine amongst the familiar constellations, but he still managed to recognize the majority of them. Throughout the mess of speckled light he made out Lyra, Ursa Minor and Major, Cassiopeia, Ophiucus. More than that, he was overwhelmed by their brilliance, their abundance. Their beauty. They were like fireflies stuck in time, hanging peacefully overhead. And the strange thing was, they were just dots from this distance. Yet more often than not, Castiel found himself stargazing hours into the night, realizing it was early morning hours by the time he would start nodding off. The stars were just dots, billions upon billions of miles away. But this....

This still remained astonishing.

“Hey, Dean?”

“What’s up?”

“How many times are you going to amaze me with beautiful scenery this weekend?”

“As many times as I want to.” Castiel heard him shift in his chair. “There’s plenty to go around out here.”

“Yeah…” Castiel let his eyes drift from the sky to Dean, finding those green eyes staring warmly back. Just as bright and beautiful as the stars. “No kidding…”

Dean’s lips quirked up into that charming half grin of his. Those one hundred and sixty-seven freckles dotting his cheeks as the stars spotted the sky. Yeah, he was just as bright and beautiful.

“Dean?”

“Cas.”

_You’re beautiful._

Castiel nearly fell out of his chair in effort to keep those words locked away. “I uh, you—” he mumbled, heart shooting from his chest at the mere thought of what he really wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Castiel stabilized himself in rather clumsy manner, flailing his arms a little, feet planting themselves a bit too firmly as he struggled to come up with something, anything other than _you’re beautiful you’re beautiful you’re beautiful._  “You ever, um...do you remember any of the constellations?”

“Uh…” Dean appeared quite amused at his efforts not to fall on his ass. “The constellations? Yeah. Totally. Most definitely.”

“Really.”

“Really really,” Dean nodded, pointing towards the mass of stars. “See, there’s uh, what’cha call it, the Poop Deck.”

“You mean Puppis, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. And there’s Sextan’s, conveniently abbreviated as ‘Sex.’ ”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but laughed. “Of course those are the first two you remember from astronomy class.”

“The _only_ two.”

“And you can’t even see them anymore. They’re past the horizon by now I’m sure. Sextans still might be hanging in there, though.” Castiel shifted closer to Dean so they could share a similar angle. “You pointed at Cygnus and Draco,” he said, connecting the stars with a finger. “And there of course is Ursa Major.”

“The Big Dipper.”

“Not exactly, no. The Big Dipper is only a part of Ursa Major. It’s an asterism.”

“Asterism my ass. That’s always been a constellation.”

“No, Dean. Don’t you remember learning this in class?”

“Obviously not,” Dean remarked, getting up to grab something from the cooler. “Only reason I took that class was because you were going to kill me if I hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have gone that far with it.” Castiel shrugged, “Just some severe disfigurement is all I would’ve been able to carry out.”

“That’s real reassuring, Cas. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

When Dean sat back down, he cracked open a Coke bottle and chugged half it down in one gulp. He used the tip of the bottle to point at the sky this time. “So what other nerd stuff do you know about all this?”

Castiel held a sarcastic arch to his eyebrow. “Oh, besides the Poop Deck and Sex constellations?”

Dean, with all the seriousness he could muster, nodded. “Right. Besides those two.”

Castiel had to roll his eyes, when the brilliant sky caught his gaze again. The way the stars glistened—the way they seemed to _communicate_ —it made him sigh. At least their beauty was one he could express.

“Well,” he began softly, shoulders relaxing with the stillness of the air, “I know the stars are hundreds of lightyears apart. Nothing really connects them. They’re lonely. They’re all way, way out there, with nothing but empty space in all directions for all eternity, but…but somehow we manage to see them ‘together.’ In groups, clusters, constellations, part of a cosmic whole. And I think, if things so far away from another can seem so together from here, then…”

_Then you and I will never truly be apart._

“Then what?” Dean prompted, though it was out of curiosity rather than impatience.

Castiel bit his lip. He shook his head. “It was nothing. I was just going off on a tangent.”

Sighing, he found himself engrossed in the stars yet again. This must’ve been what, the fifth time he’s looked up at them for a good while tonight? They remained marvelous, still. Perhaps even more so, now that his eyes weren’t accustomed to the glow of the fire anymore. There were just so many. Why that bewildered him was still a mystery. He’d known for a long time that there were billions of stars out there, yet seeing a mere fraction of them was dazzling, to say the least. Castiel was inclined to count the ones he could see. It’d be quite the feat, observing their sheer amount and seeing as how some seemed to disappear as he focused on their light. But having the constellations as his guide, it couldn’t be entirely impossible. That’s how he counted Dean’s freckles, after all, in clusters rather than individually—

Oh. Oh god. He’d been counting them like stars all this time, hadn’t he? Mapping and connecting them over his nose and cheekbones...oh no. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

Dean had constellations on his face. And Castiel knew that he was never, ever going to get over that.

“Oh my god.” He let his face fall right into his palms.

“What??” Dean spat. “What’s your problem?”

“Oh my god, it’s nothing,” Castiel huffed, a strange mixture of giddiness and anger boiling in his breath. Did he seriously have to realize that now? “Just...don’t mind me, alright?”

“Okay,” Dean mumbled incredulously. It took a second, but he finished with a mildly concerned, “You sure about that?”

Castiel nodded as much as he could with his face buried in his hands.  “Yeah. I’m fine.” _You just have constellations on your face is all._ Oh god, it was a stupid thought, really. And painfully cheesy, too.

But damn was it adorable.

Gingerly, Castiel lifted his face from his hands. Dean was still giving him a dubious look. “What’s on your mind? I’m curious.”

“Nothing, I’m just...I uh, I ate too many s’mores. That’s all.”

“Right…”

“Right.”

Dean just shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Just don’t puke ‘em up in that chair. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Before Castiel could lose himself in Dean’s eyes again, he lifted his head towards the sky, and began counting the stars.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Let’s sleep out here.”

Castiel frowned. “We’re camping, Dean. Aren’t we already sleeping ‘out here?’ ”

“Well, yeah. But I meant out here.” Dean pointed to the ground. “Out of the tent, under the stars.”

“Oh.”

Tonight’s pile of firewood had long been exhausted, the fire now just a dim cluster of red, glowing coals. The stars had come out even more since then, and Castiel still found himself mesmerized by the sight. The moon had taken the sun’s place behind the trees, a silver crescent shining in between the branches and trunks. “You want to sleep under the stars?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Castiel smiled at the idea; it did sound pleasant. He was beginning to feel an annoying ache in the back of his neck from looking up at the sky for so long. If the stars were going to continue transfixing him as such, he might as well be facing them comfortably…

Then again, Dead did set up their sleeping bags quite snugly in the tent.

“That sounds nice,” he said. “But we did spend a lot of time setting up the tent. And we can’t let all that work go to waste, now can we?”

“We can sleep in there tomorrow night. Besides,” Dean stood, “it could be cloudy and rainy the rest of this trip for all we know. Might as well sleep out here while we can.”

Hm. Hard to argue with that logic. “Alright,” Castiel said. Yawning, he watched as Dean stomped out the coals. “Let’s do it, then.”

They both carried their own sleeping bags and pillows from of the tent. Dean was first to walk out. “Watch your step,” he said.

The warning had come just a smidge too late.

If it weren’t for the ball of fluff piled in his arms blocking his view, Castiel wouldn’t have tripped over the tent’s ankle-high opening and fallen face first into the dirt. Luckily, he had his pillow to break his fall. Not so luckily, Dean was laughing, and that meant he’d seen the whole damn thing.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, though he hardly sounded concerned at all.

Castiel groaned. His voice was muffled by the pillow and lack of will to raise his head and properly speak. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Dean proceeded to laugh at him some more, but soon enough it died down. Castiel heard a collective _plop_ before Dean’s footsteps began his way. “C’mon.”

Internally cursing his clumsiness, Castiel finally lifted his head. Dean stood over him with a smirk, a hand stretched out. “Need some help, or are you just gonna sleep there?”

Castiel made a face at his mockery, but took his hand anyways. He stood mostly on his own, letting Dean pull only as much as he allowed. “Thank you,” he muttered as their hands dropped back into their own possession.

“Told you to watch your step.”

“Yeah, maybe warn a friend sooner next time. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Dean returned to where he’d dropped his bundle of stuff and began unraveling his blanket from his sleeping bag. Castiel would’ve followed suit immediately, if he knew where to set up his things.

Castiel shivered, the night air seeping under his pajamas. “Where would you like me to sleep?” he asked.

“Uh, wherever you want, I guess.”

Well. He could still get his way here and set up right next to Dean. There was enough space on that side before the dirt turned to gravel. Or he could give Dean his deserved space and take the other side of the fire pit. But that’d be kinda awkward too, wouldn’t it? With some big, rusty metal thing sitting between them.

Castiel sighed. Decisions, decisions...

“You just gonna stand there all night?”

Castiel made a face. “No, I just can’t see anything yet.”

“It’s not that dark. And it ain’t gettin’ any lighter.”

Dean was right; it really wasn’t too dark. The moon provided enough light to make out the rough edges of things. Castiel, being the stubborn butt he was, stuck with his excuse anyway. “It is too.”

Dean made an annoyed sort of sound and outstretched his arms. “Gimme.”

“Give you what?”

“Your stuff. Obviously, I gotta make your bed for you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Dean. Look, I’ll just lie down right over—”

“Nope. C’mon. Time to put the baby to bed.”

“I’m not a—” Castiel began, when he realized chucking his sleeping bag at Dean would be a more suiting retaliation.

“Hey!” Dean laughed. He’d just barely gotten his hands in front of his face as the sleeping bag came hurtling at him. He snatched it from his lap and tried shooting Castiel an unamused look. He was quickly betrayed by a smile tugging on his lips. “Such a baby...” he muttered, slowly shaking his head.

Castiel took extra care in how he crossed his arms. “Am not.”

“Are too,” Dean confirmed. He braced himself for the pillow that came flying next. Dean caught it midair and laughed again. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now move over.”

Castiel wordlessly did as he was told. Dean flattened out his sleeping bag and settled it so that both their sleeping bags stretched in one long line. Then he tossed the pillow just over his own. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get down here.”

“Pushy...” Castiel mumbled, plopping himself down anyway. After crawling into his sleeping bag, he sighed as he caught sight of the stars again. He settled his head on his pillow, while Dean held his own over crossed arms. Together they watched the sky twinkle in silence. The faint chirping of crickets kept the night air full and alive. Until Castiel yawned, that was all to be heard.

“Tuckered out?” Dean asked.

“Mm. Just a little,” Castiel replied, smacking his lips. He blinked twice, eyelids growing heavy a third time—no. He could stay up a little while longer. He could...

A soft laugh was enough to jerk his eyes open one last time. Dean hovered over him, his silhouette a large portion of the sky. Before Castiel could even wonder what he was doing, Dean reached down and carefully removed his glasses. “I’ll put these somewhere safe. You rest up, okay? We’re gonna have one hell of a day tomorrow.”

Castiel sleepily hummed. It wasn’t just tomorrow; it was going to be the next three days. Just the two of them. It’d been years since it was just them. It was nice to have that back, even for this little while.

“G’night, Cas.”

Castiel smiled, and it remained even as he yawned one last time. With his glasses gone, the fireflies drifting above blurred with the stars. Both blinked over the dark backdrop of night, coming together to form some sort of cosmic ballet. And Castiel utterly unwound beneath the scene.

Seconds later, he drifted asleep, Dean’s quiet hums already lulling him into pleasant dreams.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 1 ST:  
> A Candle’s Fire - Beirut  
> Cranberry Lake - Ari Hest  
> Way Out There - Lord Huron  
> Have You Ever - Brandi Carlile  
> Ramble On - Led Zeppelin  
> Starlight (Acoustic Version) - Jai Wolf, Mr Gabriel  
> Twin Peaks Theme (Acoustic) - Henrik Johnson  
> Shallow Waters - Julyan Brynn  
> Rosyln - Yoga Pop Ups
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	3. Day 2A - River Rapids & Pirate Shanties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because the chapters for Day 2 and Day 3 are so long, I'm gonna be splitting them both in half. I'll be uploading the chapters the same as I have been, but I just thought it was worth noting that these two days are going to be made into four chapters.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Rise and shine, Cas! We got a big day ahead of us!”

Ugh. Words. Yelling. Dean yelling. When was Dean going to stop yelling at him?

“Cas!”

Never, apparently.

“Hn..?” Castiel groggily tossed in his sleeping bag, already falling back into the arms of sleep. Deep, comfortable...sleep…

“Cas!”

A semi-mild kick to the ribs was enough to pop his eyes open. Blinding, brilliant sunlight was the first thing he noticed. Then it was Dean, his silhouette towering over and eclipsing the sun. “I’m not gonna ask nicely again. Now get up.”

Yawning, Castiel lazily blinked up at him.

“...No.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Dean coaxed, nudging his ribs with his boot again. “I’m warning you.”

“Gimme five minutes…” After swatting Dean’s foot away, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes to the world. It was too damn bright, and all he wanted to do was fall back asleep…

“Well, if you’re not going to get up,” Dean started towards the table, “I guess I’ll just have to eat all these peanut butter and jelly sandwiches myself.”

That got Castiel’s eyes open again.

“And that canoe I went ahead and rented? Consider it gone.” A sulky facade overtook Dean’s apparent excitement. He continued in his woeful manner, “No lake for us today. No fun…”

“I’m up!” Castiel exclaimed, jolting upright with the biggest smile he could muster. “I’m up, Dean. No reason for that now.”

“Oh,” Dean smirked back, setting his sandwich down. “Are you now? Because it looks to me you’re still in bed.”

“Oh, this?” Castiel pointed to his sleeping bag and laughed. “This is merely an illusion.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. Mouth full of PB&J, he said, “Whatever man, just get up already. Day’s wastin’ away.”

Castiel nodded and stretched his arms up and out. Oh, man. Sleeping on dirt did horrible things to his back. And neck. Kneading a knot, he asked, “What time is it anyway?”

“Uh. Time for you to get up.”

“Dean.”

“Who cares what time it is? We’re not on schedule here.”

“You seem to think otherwise,” Castiel said, crossing his arms. “Mister Wake Now or Feel the Wrath of My Toes Meeting Your Ribs.”

“Fine! It’s six a.m.”

“Oh good lord.” And at that, Castiel crashed back down onto his pillow and hid inside his sleeping bag. “Goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you in the morning. The actual morning.”

Dean very much audibly sighed. “This _is_ the actual morning. Now quit bein’ a whiny baby and get your ass outta bed. Your sandwich isn’t gonna eat itself.”

Talk of food and a grumbly tummy was enough to finally persuade Castiel off the ground. He rubbed his eyes and clambered over to the table, yawning again as he plopped down across from Dean. Dean handed over his glasses. Castiel thanked him. Sliding them on, he noticed a mischievous smile work its way across Dean’s face. Castiel frowned more than he already was in return; no way that smirk was a good sign.

“What?” he asked rather irritably.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.” Dean stuffed his mouth full of food before Castiel could ask the question again.

Too muddled and groggy to inquire further anyway, Castiel just blinked as Dean sidled a paper plate before him. Castiel glared down at it with brooding eyes, taking note of the apparent absence of food, save for a few crumbs.

He pointed a finger. “Where’s the sandwich.”

“Right here.” Dean lifted the one he was currently devouring. “And it tastes great!”

“Dean…” Castiel grumbled, both visibly and spiritually deflating. “Make me another one. Please…”

Dean shook his head. “No way. You had your chance. Besides, a man’s gotta learn how to survive on his own out here. No one makes it out alive begging others to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for them.” Dean proceeded to take another mockingly hefty bite for emphasis. His excessive chewing did much to help. “No one.”

Castiel sighed, but he snatched up the loaf of bread anyway. As he started to unwind the opening, he begrudgingly mumbled, “You’re a monster, Dean Winchester. A cold, heartless, insufferable monster.”

“And yet you love me anyways.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “And yet I do.”

He went on to grab the jelly, but stopped when he realized there were two types: grape, and strawberry. Usually he’d go with strawberry, but there was little of it left. Castiel didn’t want to be the one to finish it off, since it was Dean’s and all.  That’d be rude. But then again, grape jelly always seemed to leave a weird aftertaste—

Wait.

 _And yet I do_. Do what?

As soon as he recalled, Castiel involuntarily gasped and straightened his spine. Oh god. ‘And yet you love me anyways.’ He said it. He said it like it was nothing.

“I uh…” he fumbled for the right words, when just one glance at Dean had him shutting right up. Oh, that blush. Those eyes. Wait—Dean was blushing? Oh god. That was going to be the death of him.

Then Dean laughed. “I’m sure you do, Cas.”

Castiel had to let out his own laugh, though it was out of nerves rather than amusement. “R-right...yeah...um.” He quickly plucked a jar of jelly. Didn’t matter which one. “Grape it is.”

Okay, Dean thought he was just kidding around. That was a good thing, right? He hadn’t really meant to say it, after all. If Dean was able to brush it off like that, then it was no big deal. He shouldn’t have to worry that much…

But, if Dean was just going to brush it off like that when he really meant it, then…

No. Dean wouldn’t do that again. Dean would listen, because they wouldn’t be kidding around. Castiel would be serious when he really said it, so he’d have to listen…

“You forget how to make a sandwich?”

“Oh. Um…” Castiel snapped out of it, tucking his chin away from Dean. “No, I didn’t forget. I just…”

Castiel bit his lip. He’d just make a fool of himself, if he ever attempted to tell Dean how he really—

“Gimme,” Dean said, when a hand suddenly removed the grape jelly from Castiel’s strangling grasp. Snapping his gaze back up, Castiel watched as Dean also took the plate and bread away. Dean whistled a tune as he began preparing the sandwich for him. “I know you don’t really want this grape stuff though,” he said, turning the jar over in his hand before switching it out for strawberry. “You always hated the aftertaste.”

“I don’t mind that much…” Castiel defended, flustered. “You don’t have to make it for me, really.”

“I don’t mind that much either,” Dean rebutted with a shrug. “You like my sandwiches better anyways.”

“It’s peanut butter and jelly, Dean. There isn’t a whole lot to be better about.”

“Oh, how wrong you are my friend. There are _plenty_ of things.” Dean held up one slice of bread in each hand. Peanut butter was spread on the one to the left, while the other was quickly smothered in strawberry jam. Dean cleared his throat. “For example: I’m able to find the perfect balance between peanut butter and jam. If there’s too much of one or the other—” he tilted his arms like a scale “—it throws the whole thing off balance.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, “Dean—”

“Up-uhp-uhp! I’m just getting started, please hold your questions until the end. Now, two: If there’s too much of both peanut butter and jam, the entire thing drowns. The bread gets too soggy halfway through consumption, and you end up with goop all over your hands from squeezing it out the edges of the bread. Now if there’s too little, it’s too dry and you end up flat out dissatisfied with your meal. You might have a glass of milk with your PB&J, but that will never change the fact that your sandwich sucks.

“Three: you don’t want goo running off the sides, but you don’t want any dry corners either. You want all areas of the sandwich equally delicious. So we spread it across the entire slice of bread as evenly as we can, careful not to miss or go over the edges.

“Four: the bread itself. I should’ve explained this before we started, but I forgot and it’s too late to change that now. So, bread. You want bread that isn’t dry or stale. That could lead to unwanted crumbling as you spread the PB&J. More importantly, it just doesn’t taste good. So you’ll want fresh bread. White, wheat; whatever you prefer. Long as it ain’t sourdough—that stuff’s just gross. Try not to crumple or squish any of it as you make your sandwich. We want the entire thing left spongy and smooth for consumption.

“Now. Number five.” Dean slapped the two slices together and picked up a butter knife. He took care in cleaning it with a paper towel as he continued, “How you cut the sandwich also plays an important role. Cutting it in half vertically is the common way to go. Easy, practical, logical. But that’s too boring for us. We don’t want to cut it horizontally either, that’s just weird. So what do we settle on?”

“We cut it diagonally,” Castiel answered with an amused roll of the eye.

“Bingo,” Dean pointed the knife to Castiel before bringing it down on the sandwich. He cleanly sliced it corner to corner. “We cut it diagonally, and voila!” He slid the plate back to Castiel. “The perfect PB&J.”

“Wow,” Castiel deadpanned, lifting one triangle of the sandwich to eye level. “Very impressive.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean stood from the table. He gave Castiel’s shoulder a pat and his hair a thorough messing-up before walking towards their sleeping bags. “I’m gonna clean up our stuff and change. You eat up. There should be some milk in the cooler, if you want any.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel ate with a smile on his face. His eyes might’ve been a little droopy, his mouth a tad lopsided, but there was still a smile. The day was bright, the air was fresh, and his sandwich was indeed perfect. After some digging around a tub, he found a cup to use for milk. He also snagged a box of animal crackers for the side. With each bite of food and sip of milk, he woke up a smidge more. By the time he was finished, his eyes no longer felt droopy and his smile was beaming. He was ready to face the day.

Well, almost ready. He still had to change out of his pajamas.

Castiel wasn’t too keen on repeating yesterday’s events of walking in on Dean in the midst of changing. He was hardly prepared for that then; it wasn’t very likely that he was ready for that now. So instead of hopping right in the tent after eating, he patiently waited for Dean to emerge. To make the minutes go by quicker, he grabbed another snack from a tub and began munching on that.

Nibbling on a granola bar, Castiel wondered what Dean already had in mind for the day. They were going to the lake, that much he already knew. And although he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant in terms of what particular activities they were partaking in, he still found himself excited for it. From where he was sitting, he could see a part of the lake glistening in the morning sun. It almost looked like a mirror, untouched by the world. A family of ducks came out from behind the trees, the little babies following their mother around. They waddled out into the water, snuck around a bush and disappeared. A slight breeze played with the trees, and for a moment Castiel found himself able to recognize and enjoy the early morning serenity.

Hm. Since Dean acted so impatient in waking him up, he sure seemed to be taking his sweet time in the tent. So much for being in a hurry…

Well, chances were he was dressed by now. Wouldn’t hurt to check.

Castiel turned to exit the table. “Dean? Are you almost done in—oh.” And there Dean was, standing not too far behind him. He was wearing a black tank top and a gray pair of gym shorts that reached his knees. For a guy who mostly wore at least three layers of upper body garments and tattered jeans, it wasn’t that bad of a look on him. Yeah.

Not bad at all.

“I see you’re finally finished changing,” was the only coherent sentence Castiel could muster.

Dean laughed. “Uh, yeah. Unlike you, who has apparently gained a new interest in birdwatching.”

He cleared his throat. “Can you blame me? Ducks are adorable, and don’t you deny it.”

Dean laughed. He took a seat at the edge of the table. “Sure. Now would you hurry it up and get changed too? I wanna go snag a canoe, before they run out.”

“Alright, we can go take care of that fir—wait. Didn’t you say you already got a canoe?”

“Do you see a canoe sittin’ around here? I lied.”

“Of course you did.”

“Hey, how else could I have risen you from the dead that is sleep?”

“With tender love and care, for starters. Not deceit.”

“Yeah, okay. Just get dressed already, loverboy.”

The second Castiel stepped out of the tent after changing, Dean started towards the docks. Castiel slipped on his shoes and snagged his half-eaten box of animal crackers off the table, hurrying to catch up with Dean. Together they walked down a path that was more of a bumpy hill than a road. Castiel only tripped over his toes once, which he considered an accomplishment, given all the medium-sized rocks scattered about. Dean managed to coax two animal crackers out of him, Castiel handing him hippopotamuses when he specifically asked for lions.

“It all tastes the same,” Castiel said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but the lions are way cooler.” Dean crossed his arms. “And quit it with that smile. You know I’m right. And I know you handed me the wrong crackers on purpose.”

“Oh, did I now?”

“You did.”

Feigning innocence, Castiel hummed as he peeked inside the box, sifting through until he found the last lion cracker of its kind. He held it between two fingers and flashed it before Dean. “You wanted this one?”

“Yes,” Dean said happily, ready to reach out and take it from him. The moment he did, Castiel slipped it away and dangled it over his own mouth.

Shooting Dean one last smirk, he dropped it in.

“Oh come on!”

“You were right, Dean,” Castiel sung around his bites. “They are better.”

Needless to say, Castiel had a very difficult time keeping the rest of his animal crackers safe for the remainder of their stroll to the lake.

The box had been involuntarily passed between the two multiple times (and dropped an occasional few more), when Dean finally gave up as they reached the shore. Castiel held the box up in victory, but handed Dean a tiger soon after. Tigers were better than lions in his opinion, after all, and at that point that was the best he could do.

Dean reluctantly took the tiger, and ate it with an angry jaw. “I was going to let you pick out the canoe, you know. But now I’m not so sure.”

“Who gave you control over the situation? I’m picking.”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to back your choice.”

Castiel ended up picking the only green canoe, and no, not because it just so happened to match Dean’s eye color. That was a mere coincidence, thank you.

He tried not to think much about how Dean flirted with the attendant while making their payment. They probably spent an extra fifteen minutes outside the post because of it. Which wasn’t a problem, wasn’t a problem in the slightest, at least it gave Castiel an excuse to step aside and admire the lake.

Lazy waves lapped calmly over shore, and Castiel figured out how close he could stand without getting his toes wet. A light wind played with his hair and unearthed a fresh, watery scent from the dirt. Castiel breathed it in deep, until the cool morning air filled his lungs. After a few replenishing breaths, he crouched down over the edge of the lake and looked closely beneath the surface. Grimy sand and rounded pebbles covered the bottom, with the occasional strand of lakeweed washed up from a deeper end. Castiel dipped a finger into the shallow water to test its temperature, when quick, camouflaged movements caught his eye. When it slowed down he realized it was a small, thin fish. A whole school of them, in fact.

Castiel chased another with his hand for a moment, but left them alone after that. Then he laughed to himself and stood. “Hey Dean,” he called out. “Come here and look—”

Oh. He was still flirting with the attendant.

Castiel found himself unable to finish his sentence, the rest of it dying in his throat. And that was fine, he could keep himself occupied just a minute longer. Dean did this stuff all the time. Castiel wouldn’t mind watching the fish swim in circles a minute longer. It was just fine.

And no, it didn’t matter that Dean seemed especially interested in those curves of hers. And that wavy hair, and those big eyes—all things Castiel didn’t have. Nor did it matter that they seemed to know each other. Dean had been camping here plenty of times before, it would only make sense if they knew each other. Not like that meant Dean was going to ditch him later to hang out with her, that’d be ridiculous. It was going to be just him and Dean this trip. Sure, Dean could talk to people other than him every now and then. Flirt with girls. That’s what Dean did, after all. It was normal. It was fine.

Castiel was going to be just fine.

“Hey.”

A fist suddenly came and socked his unexpecting shoulder. That, of course, damn near made Castiel fall into the lake as he snapped out of his thoughts. Luckily he was able to stabilize himself before that could happen—but not without stepping a foot into the lake.

“Great,” Castiel mumbled as he tried shaking the water from his shoe. Dean laughed by his side, and he couldn’t have cared less, really. Dean laughed at him all the time. He didn’t care that the girl was laughing, too. Sighing, Castiel rolled his eyes and muttered, “Hey yourself...”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Cas,” Dean said, giving him a pat on the back. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.”

Really, it was.

“Tell you what, Jo,” Dean said, turning back to the girl, “I’m gonna head back to camp with my friend here, get ‘im a new pair shoes, grab a few things and we’ll be back for the canoe, alright?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Castiel didn’t miss how Dean shot her a wink as they walked off. He tried focusing more on how his waterlogged shoe squished rather than Dean’s explanation on how he’d met this Jo.

It didn’t work out so well.

“...And so, yeah. We always got a little carried away with the whole ‘be a dick to the person you’ve got a crush on’ thing. Bobby was amused, Ellen kept rolling her eyes at us. Till Jo had to go home with one less lock of hair, and myself with a much deserved black eye. Long story short, neither Bobby nor Ellen were all too keen on setting up another play date after that.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah. We were crazy kids.”

“And now she’s here, carrying all that unresolved tension between you two…”

“Oh, don’t you know it. She ain’t the only one, either.”

“...Hm.”

Wringing his hands, Castiel worried his bottom lip. He already dreaded Dean’s answer, but he had to ask. “You planning to hang out with her at all?”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel shrugged, “I mean, she seems nice, and you’re obviously interested. I was just curious if you were wanting to spend some time with her while we were here...”

Dean left the inquiry unanswered a minute. Crap. He shouldn’t have said anything. Just by bringing it up like that, Castiel was basically planting the idea in his head. Giving him permission. Encouraging it. The way Dean had his eye on her, there’s no way he wasn’t ditching him later for some girl.

It wouldn’t be the first time, either.

A breeze passed by, and Castiel folded his arms. “Um, just...nevermind, Dean. Forget I said any—”

“I’m not gonna ditch you, Cas.”

“I never said—”

“That’s exactly what you were saying, and that mopey look you have gave it away,” Dean said, though his voice lacked any accusation. When Castiel chanced a look in his direction, he saw that Dean was even smiling. “But this is our weekend. No one else’s, okay? Sure, Jo’s nice—has an even nicer ass—but she isn’t you. And yeah, she and I have history, but you and I have even more. This is my last chance to really hang out with you before you leave for college. There’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with than you.”

“O-oh.” That got him to blush. Wow, that got him to blush. “I’m sorry, for assuming otherwise.”

Dean shrugged it off and shot a teasing smirk. “Besides, I can’t in good conscience leave you alone out here. You wouldn’t survive a single night.”

“Oh shut up,” Castiel rolled his eyes, but laughed as he unfolded his arms. “I’d do just fine, now that I know how to properly roast marshmallows, thank you very much.”

“Don’t forget about the perfect PB&J.”

“That too,” Castiel added with a laugh.

They were going to be just fine.

 

 

* * *

  

 

“Paddles.”

“Check.”

“Fishing poles.”

“Check.”

“Lunch, snacks?”

“Double-check.”

“Awesome.” Dean glanced over Castiel’s shoulder at the pile of stuff on the table. “I see you also grabbed the inner tubes.”

Castiel nodded. “Mhmm. Just like you told me.”

Dean gave his shoulder a pat before walking off to the car again. “If you wanna bring anything else, I suggest you pack it now. We probably won’t get back here till sunset.”

“I think I’m all set,” Castiel said. He briefly sifted through his satchel one more time just to be sure. With his water bottle, pencils and sketchbook, Castiel was sure he had everything— “Wait, no. I forgot my glasses case.”

“Cas,” Dean scoffed. “Always forgetting something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just let me grab it real quick.”

“I’ll leave without you if you don’t hurry.”

“No you won’t,” Castiel singsonged as he trotted over to the tent. Dean’s sandals still felt awkward on his feet, the straps a bit too loose even at their tightest setting. But Castiel, being the smart camper he was, only brought one pair of shoes—half of which was currently dangling from a tree to dry. They haven’t even been here one full day, and of course he managed to ruin the only pair of shoes he brought. And why is it that he always ended up wearing something of Dean’s whenever they hung out?

Not that he was complaining.

When Castiel unzipped the tent door, he was both happy and nervous to be reminded that Dean had reset their sleeping bags to how they’d been before. After some thinking, he imagined sleeping that close to Dean would be both fantastic and horrible all at once...

But that was something for later. For now, they were just packing to canoe across the lake. Who knew what they’d do once they got there, but for now they were packing. And that’s all Castiel had to worry about. Just this one last thing to grab, and they’d finally be kicking this trip off.

Well, that and maybe some sunblock. It wasn’t too hot this late in the summer, but that never stopped the sun from burning Castiel’s skin to a nice, even layer of red and pain. He made sure to grab a small tube from his duffel bag before leaving the tent. After mentally checking over what to bring for the umpteenth time, he gave up. Chances were he was forgetting something. And the chance he would realize what it was before leaving? Pretty slim.

“Final call for the Lake Express. Final Call.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes with a grin. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“C’mon man. Train’s leavin’ the station.”

“I’m stepping out of the tent, see?”

“No, I don’t see, because I’ve already boarded without you.”

“You’re standing right there!” Shaking his head, Castiel zipped the tent back up and hurried on over to the table. Dean already grabbed the fishing poles and must’ve slipped the bag of food into his backpack, so it was up to Castiel to grab the rest. He slung the deflated plastic inner tubes over his shoulder and held one paddle in each hand. Then he looked up at Dean with a wide smile. “Ready when you are.”

Dean rolled his eyes and started walking. “Had that been the truth, you would’ve been ready minutes ago.”

Castiel ignored his apparent impatience; he knew that it meant Dean was just eager to start the day. As was Castiel, so he couldn’t really blame him.

As they walked down the dirt road again, Castiel paid most of his attention to the woods on his left, the same woods he’d dragged Dean into the night before. They didn’t appear as dark as they’d been at sunset, but they were still generously shaded. Very green too. Judging by how deep they looked, he could see why Dean warned him not to go wandering too far off into the woods. But still, they remained strangely inviting. Mystic, almost. Castiel had never been to a place like it before, after all. A place so calm. He got to thinking about the fireflies again and wondered where they went during the day. Well, they probably didn’t go anywhere. They just weren’t all that visible in the daytime, like the stars.

Oh man, the _stars_. As beautiful and clear as the day was so far, Castiel couldn’t wait to see them again.

Castiel hummed to himself—then stopped. Oh. He was standing still. Was he standing still that whole time? He half expected Dean to be at least thirty feet ahead. But when he turned back around, he found Dean standing right by his side.

“Oh, um…” Castiel mumbled, nudging his glasses up. “I got distracted. Sorry, Dean.”

Instead of rolling his eyes like Castiel thought he might, Dean smiled at him. “Don’t be,” he said, swiveling his head around. “It’s a nice day. It’d be a shame not to stop and admire it.”

“But you were in such a hurry—”

“Well now that we’re finally rolling, I don’t think it would hurt to slow down a bit. Go at a leisurely pace…” At that, Dean started walking again. Castiel fell into step beside him, eyes and mind still fixed on the way the woods beckoned him.

“Any chance we might check out the woods later?” he asked.

Dean shrugged. “If you want to.”

“...I’ll think about it.”

Once they made it down by the shore, Jo and Dean happily greeted one another yet again. Castiel gave Jo a quiet, shy wave of his own, but she didn’t seem to notice. He and Dean loaded their belongings into the rented canoe. They piled whatever they carried in their arms in between the two seats and kept their bags situated on their shoulders. Jo had the canoe ready to launch for them, half in the water and half still on shore. “You boys have fun,” she said before turning to walk back to her station.

“Later Jo,” Dean replied, looking her way. Under his breath he muttered, “Thank God for mini shorts…”

Castiel grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it’s _God_ we have to thank for those.” When Dean didn’t say a word back or even move, Castiel blatantly cleared his throat. “Dean.”

“Hm?” Dean whipped his head around, eyes wide as they met with Castiel’s. “You say somethin’?”

“We were getting in the canoe,” Castiel prompted, trying and failing not to sound irritable.

“Hey, like I said. Stopping to admire the day...”

“It’d be a shame not to, I know.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Dean instructed Castiel to take the front seat of the canoe. Castiel had a hard time stepping around the fishing poles in the middle of the canoe, its unstable nature didn’t do much to help. As much as falling into the water wasn’t an option, it was still very much a possibility. But Castiel got to where he needed to be safely, thanks to Dean holding the canoe steady as he waited on shore for Castiel to get settled. To help Dean launch the canoe, he grabbed one of the oars and pushed it against the floor of the lake. A grating, scraping noise came about as the canoe scratched against the rocks and sand, and boy that didn’t sound good. Dean assured him it was fine, though. Normal.

“And you’re sure I should be sitting in here while it scrapes on the ground like that,” Castiel said, though it wasn’t really a question.

Dean answered it anyway. “Trust me, Cas. You don’t wanna be stepping into this thing once it leaves shore.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’ll more than likely tip over.”

“Oh,” Castiel mumbled, switching the oar to his other side to see if that would help any better. It didn’t. But Dean managed to push the canoe out far enough before hopping in. After a minute of scooting it further with the oars, they were no longer touching ground.

“And we’re off!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel laughed, wanting to turn around and smile at him. When he tried, he discovered the canoe was more than reactive to any and all of his motions, tipping to the side he turned to. He stifled a yelp and immediately straightened up. “You know, I heard these things were unstable, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Dean said. “Long as you stay centered, we should be fine. Now.” He cleared his throat. “For your safety, please remain seated with your hands, arms, feet and legs inside the ride at all times. And whatever you do, please don’t drop the oar.”

“Roger that.”

They spent the better part of the next twenty minutes drifting randomly about, Dean teaching Castiel the basics of rowing with a one-ended oar. He stressed that it was fine to switch sides every now and then, because Dean was doing most of the steering anyways. Switching sides, however, made the canoe tip more than Castiel was comfortable with, so he stuck with one side until his arms grew tired enough to make him suppose he could chance another switch.

There weren’t a whole lot of other people out on the lake this early in the morning, so the water was fairly calm. Once Castiel got the hang of things, once it no longer felt like they were going to tip every other second, he found himself locked on the scenery again. The lake was even more beautiful once they were on top of it, and the islands spread about were  flourishing clusters of bushes and trees. The largest island, maybe two thirds down the lake, was blooming with greenery. Some of the trees even tilted and hung over the water, as if being threatened to be pushed off. Lilypads and cattails dominated some areas close to the shore, while families of ducks swam and dove around the plants. Sunlight glistened in the waves Castiel stirred up, and he smiled down at his reflection as it rippled over the surface.

“You like it out here?” Dean asked.

“I love it,” Castiel replied in earnest. He turned to meet Dean’s eyes with confidence this time. “I’m...I’m really glad we’re out here.”

“Me too,” Dean said with a grin. He set his oar in his lap and took a moment to look around. “So, Cas. Where to next?”

“Um, well…let’s see.”

For the purpose of their rowing lessons, they’d stuck close to the shore so far. Although they were quite a ways away from where they’d launched, Castiel could still see their tent through a mess of trees. He glanced around a moment before asking, “Where do you think we should go?”

Dean considered that a moment. He shrugged. “I know I want to take you clear across the lake at some point. There’s some fun stuff to do over there. But until then it’s your call, man.”

“Hmm…” Castiel found his gaze gravitating towards the big island again, so he settled on that. “How about that island over there? The largest one.”

Dean seemed pleased with that response. “Good choice,” he said, setting his oar back in the water. “It is a quite ways, though.”

“I think we can handle it.”

“We can,” Dean agreed with a nod. He began whistling a tune as he aimed the canoe towards the island. Once they started rowing, the whistle turned into a hum.

Not long after, the humming turned into singing.

“ _‘Ohhhhh, blow the man down bullies, blow the man down! To me way-aye, blow him right down!’_ ” Sea shanties? Castiel laughed as Dean belted the song. “ _‘Oh, blow the man down bullies, blow the man down! Give me some time to blow the man down!’_ Alright Cas. I’ll be the shanty-man, you do the rest. Got it?”

“I think I can figure it out,” he said with a grin.

“Okay,” Dean cleared his throat. “ _‘As I was a-walking down Paradise Street,’_

Then Castiel joined in, somewhat familiar with this shanty (thanks to their many a pirate adventure on the playground at the age of ten), “ _‘To me way-aye, blow the man down!’_

“ _‘A saucy young damsel I chanced for to meet,’_

“ _‘Give me some time to blow the man down!’_ ”

They went on back and forth, Castiel singing the only two lines he remembered as Dean took care of the rest. Soon enough their rowing matched the rhythm of the chant, and Castiel supposed that was the point. Dean kept his voice expressive and punchy as it progressed, which only managed to throw Castiel in a fit of laughter as they neared the end of the song. Even then, Dean didn’t stop.

“ _‘But soon as that packet was clear of the bar, the mate knocked me down with the end of a spar! And as soon as the packet was out on the sea, ‘Twas devilish hard treatment of every degree!_ _’_ ”

“Dean,” Castiel managed between giggles, wiping his eyes. “You just woke up the entire lake, I’m sure.”

“Don’t make me finish this on my own,” Dean said, flicking water up at Castiel’s back with the oar. He started with the last verse, “ _‘So I give you fair warning before we belay…’_

Still laughing, Castiel did as he was told, “ _‘Give me time to blow the man down!’_

“ _‘Don’t never take heed of what pretty girls say,’_ ” and together, they belted the finale, “ _‘Oh, blow the man down bullies, blow him away! Give me some time to blow the man down!’_ ”

Dean’s wondrous singing echoed over the waves and around the hills. Castiel’s laughter only added to it. Three shanties later, they still had more than half the journey to the island to go, and even longer to the opposite shore.

Yeah, they were going to lose their voices.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Land ho!”

“That what the sirens call you?”

“What?”

“Nevermind, Dean. I’ll let you figure that one out on your own.”

The canoe came to a scraping halt as they washed up onto the shore of the island. Castiel threw rather than set down his oar, his arms more than ready to fall off and die from all that rowing. It was all very worth it, however, the lake downright gorgeous from out here. He also had Dean’s remarkable singing to keep him distracted from the acid building in his muscles, so that was a plus.

They both hopped out of the canoe and into the shallow water. Castiel immediately shivered upon contact, though he couldn’t imagine how Dean must’ve felt. Whereas the water only reached Castiel’s ankles, it went up to Dean’s knees from where he was standing. It didn’t seem to bother him, though.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing hold of the stern thwart. “On three.”

“On three.”

Together they lifted the canoe from the water. Castiel followed Dean’s lead in carrying it fully onto land. It was kind of awkward for Castiel, carrying it at his side like this, but once he had a good grip it wasn’t too difficult. Dean instructed him to take a few steps to the right so they could line the canoe up with a bush near the water. And when all was said and done, they had successfully dumped the canoe onto the gravel and sand.

Rubbing his arms, Castiel gave him a pained smile as Dean clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Nice rowing, Cas.”

“Thanks.”

“I’d say that was pretty smooth sailing, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh. Yeah, no,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes. “Though it _would_ have been, had you not been so inclined to violently rock the canoe every three minutes. Without warning, might I add.”

Dean shrugged, “Hey, I only did that to keep you alert and at your wits.”

“And because you thought it was funny.”

“It was very funny,” Dean said with a laugh. “ ‘Dean! Stop it! You’re going to make us tip over!’ ”

“Oh, shut up.”

“ ‘Don’t make me turn this thing around, Dean!’ Which was an interesting thing to hear, by the way. Since I was the one doing all the steering.”

“...” Castiel pushed Dean aside with a pout. “I do not sound like that.”

“You do too.”

“Do not,” he mumbled, feigning irritability. He took a large step away and crossed his arms. He pointed his nose up and away from Dean for emphasis.

“Yeah you do. It’s your ‘I’m scared but angry’ voice. Trust me, it lowers that many octaves. Gets all gravelly and serious...”

“You need to get your hearing checked.”

“You need to get your attitude checked.” Dean reached over to mess up his hair. “Now c’mon. Let’s check this place out.”

Castiel swatted his hand away, but complied. After a quick glance over what they could see of the island, it suddenly seemed a lot larger than he initially judged. The trees here looked even taller than the ones by their campsite, with bushier crowns and thicker trunks. Numerous small birds flew from branch to branch, chirping and singing their morning songs while the leaves rustled in the wind. A few more yards inland, and a steep hill took some of the trails upwards and out of sight.

“Hey, remember that game we used to play as kids?” Castiel asked, stopping at the edge of the hill. He looked upward at their options in paths to take. “Well, it wasn’t really a game, but it was when you first started visiting my house. Whenever we ventured into a room you’d never been in before, we’d make a flag out of something and pretend we were the first astronauts to set foot on Mars.”

Dean’s eyes lit up as he recalled the game. “Oh my god,” he said with a quiet laugh, “yeah, I remember. That was forever ago.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Yeah well, I’m suddenly remembering it a lot right now.” It must’ve been the island doing that to him. Setting foot somewhere new, somewhere he’s never been before…

Dean had a thoughtful look on his face. Then he turned to run off behind some trees and left Castiel on shore.

“Hang on,” he called out as he disappeared.

“What the—where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back!”

“Um. Okay. I’ll just wait here then.”

Maybe he had to pee or something.

Sighing, Castiel leant against a tree and looked out at the lake. There were a few more boats out, people getting ready to fish or simply enjoy the scenery. There were ripples in places the wind picked up, but the water stayed pretty calm otherwise. Castiel squinted as he scoured the opposite edge for their campsite, but it was hard to see anything but the trees from here. Out here, he and Dean were isolated from the world.

Out here, it was their own.

Dean came back quicker than Castiel expected. He came jogging out of the same trees he disappeared into, carrying a branch the length of a yardstick. “Here,” he said, handing it over to Castiel. “Hold this for me?”

“Mhmm.” Castiel absentmindedly waved the stick around, as Dean crossed his arms over his waist and—

Proceeded to lift his shirt off and over his head. And before Castiel could ask what the hell was going on, Dean reached his hand out in a “gimme” motion. Without a word, Castiel handed the stick over. He watched as Dean tied his shirt to the end.

“There,” he said, turning it in his hands. Then he pointed it at Cas. “Your turn.”

Castiel frowned. “My turn?”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a nod. “Take your shirt off.”

Well. Dean didn’t need to tell him twice.

Castiel handed it over with a blush, not making a second’s eye contact because neither of them needed that right now. But he watched as Dean tied the shirt just above his own. After making sure they were tight and secure with a few quick tugs, Dean walked to a soft spot in the gravel and drove the branch into the ground. It was only until then that Castiel realized what Dean was doing.

“There,” Dean said once the makeshift flag could stand on its own. He backed up to look about the island, then waved a vague gesture at it all. With a bright smile, he declared, “Mars.”

 _Oh my god_. Castiel couldn’t help but smile like an idiot at that. “Mars,” he echoed with a quiet laugh. With all this greenery, this island was quite the opposite of the Red Planet, but he let that slide. It was the idea that counted. The memory.

Dean slung an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair. “So. Where to, Commander?”

At that, Castiel took him by the wrist and started up the hill. Where to? Why, everywhere of course. They were covering every inch of this island, even if it took them all day.

 _Especially_ if it took them all day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out, Mars was indeed a much larger island than Castiel initially judged.

The first trail they undertook stretched back a ways, the end hidden behind layers and layers of trees. But Dean and Castiel swept the shores first, wrapping their way around the edge of the island so Castiel could draw up a map of the place. For that he’d turned to the next blank page in his sketchbook and had taken out his best pencil. All the while, he and Dean took turns making up historical facts for the island. They were fairly dry and at least made sense at first, but as their list grew, Castiel jotting them down alongside his map, the facts grew more creative. Dean even decided that the island was formed in the distant year of 2197. Castiel, being the free-spirited explorer he was, recorded the information all the same without question.

Castiel was excited to find a rope swing three-quarters of the way around. It hung from one of the bending trees, where the land was high and gave steep way to water. Unable to resist, Dean took a minute to swing around as Castiel marked it on their map. He was careful not to drop into the water, though, saying he preferred to at least wait until the temperature rose with the sun. They finished their first loop around the island shortly after.

Next were the trails that weaved through the middle. Castiel continued with the map, trying to walk quickly enough so Dean wouldn’t start complaining about how slow they were moving. But if Dean was getting impatient, he showed no signs. He stuck right beside Castiel the whole time. Dean even peeked over his shoulder every now and then to see how the map was coming along. It wasn’t the most accurate of maps, Castiel could admit. With Dean listing off facts and being his general, distractingly adorable self and all, it was hard to focus. But Dean said the map looked pretty good so far, and Castiel figured that’s all that mattered.

Aside from the beaten down trails and ropeswing, a number of fire pits here and there were the third sign that he and Dean weren’t the first to traverse the island. Dean, the stubborn guy he was, insisted that they were merely “coincidental rock formations.” And these weren’t manmade trails they were following, no. That was silly. That was just the island’s natural toxins being emitted from the soil and killing any and all plant life that could be affected and also happened to follow unobstructed lines across the entire body of land. And the rope swing? Just a mutated vine. Castiel shook his head at that, but pretended to believe it otherwise.

“And I suppose the initials on this tree trunk were simply carved in by harsh winds, yes?” he said.

Dean nodded. “That’s exactly it.”

“So the windstorms like to sign their work,” Castiel thought aloud as he wrote that down. “Very interesting, I must say.” Before moving on, Castiel took another look at the initials: _D.W_ . carved above a far neater _S.W._

Hm.

Castiel turned back to Dean. He was aiming his slingshot up at the trees. A stretch of silence passed, and Dean let it go. The pebble ricocheted with a sharp crack not a second later, and at least a dozen birds went flying over to the nearest island.

Dean lowered his arm and let out a sigh. “Damn,” he mumbled, turning to face Castiel. “I missed.”

Smirking, Castiel just crossed his arms.

“What?” Dean asked with shrug.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted without hesitation. “I’ve been here a few times, with Sam. But,” he bent down to pick up another pebble. He loaded the slingshot again and took aim, “This is your first time here, and this is my first time on an island named Mars.” Releasing the pebble, he sent another flock of birds aflight. “That would make this place different than it was before, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed easily enough, “I suppose it would... Now would you stop trying to murder the inhabitants for sport? It’s starting to get on my nerves.”

Dean dropped his slingshot to his side, but seemed to brush off the request otherwise. “How’s your map coming along?” he asked, walking up to take a look.

“Oh. Um,” Castiel flipped through his sketchbook until he found the correct page. He handed it over. “We’ve reached the last trail, haven’t we?”

“Mhmm,” Dean mumbled with a nod as he studied the page. “God. The things you can do with a pencil and paper…”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m only drawing what’s already here.”

“I know, but what kind of mapmaker pays this much attention to their artistry?” Dean lifted the sketchbook to his height and pointed at the page. “I mean, seriously. You could’ve just scribbled in a few scribblies for the waves. And you totally could’ve just said ‘screw it’ to the trees and not’ve shaded them in at all. But no, you had to...do whatever it is you did here and make it look all fancy.”

“To answer your question, most mapmakers, believe it or not. And it’s called hatching. It’s a very simple and straightforward shading technique.”

“Whatever, man.” Dean handed the sketchbook back over. “Hatching is for eggs.”

“That...isn’t the type of hatching I was talking about.”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

Castiel laughed. “Anyways. The map should be complete once we reach the end of this trail. Since this is the last one, and all.”

“Alright, then let’s finish it.”

Dean kept mostly to himself as they started walking again, giving Castiel the air and space to properly concentrate this time. Castiel still stopped drawing every few minutes out of habit to jot down another fact, only to realize Dean hadn’t said a word. But, eager to finish the map and move on to more exciting activities, he didn’t question it. It wasn’t until they could spot the canoe again that Dean spoke up.

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You can draw people, right?”

“Right,” Castiel replied monotonously. “Though I do find it most difficult.”

Dean hummed, considering that a moment. “Think you could draw me?”

“Uh.”

Of course he could draw Dean, he’d only done it hundreds of times before. Doodling on notes in class. When they sat on the couch, brainlessly watching TV. From afar, when he was sure Dean wasn’t looking or paying him mind. Castiel had spent enough of his lifespan staring at Dean to pull from memory just what he looked like, how he moved, how he smiled. He had entire studies based off that freckled face alone. And those long-fingered hands, those bowed legs...

Hell, he could draw Dean blindfolded.

“...I can try.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy or nothin’. I’m just curious how good I’d look in your style.”

_Oh, you’d look good alright. That’s already been determined._

“Um…” Castiel mumbled, because he couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say. “Wait. I have a style?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “There’s a certain look your drawings have. A certain…attitude, I guess. I can look at one and be able to tell that it’s yours.”

“...Oh.” He didn’t know Dean paid so much attention to his sketches. And he wasn’t quite sure how to react to the fact that he did. His face went ahead and deemed a blush an appropriate response.

“But,” Dean went on obliviously, “because I have a very sad excuse of an imagination, I can’t picture what I’d look like. So I’ll let your mind do all the work instead.”

“You don’t have a sad imagination. You just came up with two pages of in-depth historical facts for an island you named Mars. Off the top of your head, might I add.”

Dean shot a look. “Will you make a drawing of me or not?”

“I will.”

“Alright then.”

Soon enough, they reached the shore and the map was complete. There was room to add in a few more details here and there, but Castiel decided he could do that some other time. He scribbled in a quick compass rose before closing it up.

Dean jogged over to the canoe and grabbed his backpack. “We can do the drawing later, though. For now, I say we have a few snacks then finish that last stretch across the water. There’s a decent hiking trail that starts over there, and I think you’d like it.” He held out a granola bar. “Sound good?”

Castiel accepted the snack with a grin. “Sounds good to me.”

“Awesome.” Dean grabbed a few of his own before dropping his backpack to the ground. Tearing open the packaging, he sat down. “But you haven’t been hiking before, right?”

Castiel shook his head as he sat down beside him. “No, but I imagine it’s pleasant.”

“It’s nice. The trail here isn’t difficult. It’s a little uh, steep, for the first bit. Lots of boulders to climb over. But after that it’s just gravel and dirt and flat ground.”

“How long is the trail?”

“Four, maybe five miles out,” Dean said, nearly eating his granola bar in one bite. “Hard to tell. It zig-zags a lot.”

“I see.” Walking around the island got Castiel a bit more acquainted with Dean’s sandals, and they no longer felt so awkward and big on him. So they shouldn’t bother him too much, but eight to ten miles round trip might be a problem. With his legs stretched out in front of him, Castiel eyed his feet dubiously. “Hey, is it a good idea to hike in sandals?”

“Not in the slightest,” Dean said rather bluntly. “Especially ones that don’t fit you right.”

“But we’re going to do it anyways.”

“Bingo.”

“All nine-ish miles of it.”

“Well, no, not exactly. We’re only going to walk the way out.”

“Oh really?”

Dean nodded. “Really really.”

“And just how are we going to get back?”

Dean tossed the last of his granola bar into his mouth and started opening a second one. Cheeks full of food, he simply grinned.

“You’ll see.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t understand the purpose of this.”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“You keep saying that, but…”

“But you’ll just have to keep trusting me.”

Castiel gave Dean a questioning look as he was handed a deflated inner tube and paddle. Dean then grabbed the other inner tube and slung it over his shoulder like a sash. “We’re gonna need these for the way back.”

They’d just finished crossing the lake. And getting out of the canoe while it was still waterbound had been the true test of Castiel’s balance and coordination. Dean had gotten out before him and helped him onto the small dock. Even then he’d nearly fallen in at least three times, almost taking Dean down with him once or twice. He hastily apologized and pretended not to enjoy it when Dean hugged him close to prevent him from teetering off the dock, serving as a blatant reminder of just how shirtless they still were. Dean just laughed at him.

Though they’d made it out of the canoe without an accident, they weren’t out of the water yet. They were standing on something that was closer to two pallets stapled together than an actual dock. And maybe one more person could fit before it would get uncomfortably crowded. No matter how precarious it was, Dean didn’t seem to mind or care.

Still humming yet another shanty he’d sung on the way, he finished tying the canoe to the dock. “Any last minute snacks before we take off?” he asked.

“Mm-mm,” Castiel shook his head. And man, that was a mistake. He stumbled to the side, any and all movements disorienting as a joyride with Gabriel. Luckily, Dean grabbed him before he could fall.

“Dude.”

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled and gave a quiet thanks. “I think I better step onto land now.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed without hesitation, “should’ve done that the moment you got up here, you clumsy oaf.”

Castiel made a face at that, but waited until he was on solid ground to do so. Dean joined him a moment later, easily hopping off the dock with a paddle in hand. He told Castiel to leave his satchel on board, that he wouldn’t need it for where they were going. Castiel was only slightly skeptical of leaving it in a canoe tied to a poor excuse of a dock. Slightly. But if Dean was fine with it, then he supposed it could be trusted not to detach from land and drift away.

Before leaving his satchel, though, he made sure to grab the sunblock out of its pocket. It was already getting hotter, and Castiel just knew he’d burn to a crisp without it later. Not wearing a shirt definitely wasn’t going to help with that. Not in the slightest.

After setting aside the inner tube and paddle, he began rubbing it on. He got his arms, chest and face covered before moving on to his back. All was going well, Castiel could certainly do it on his own. He could reach his lower back, easy. Mid-back, not a problem. Upper and shoulder blades, well...maybe. If he really tried…if he crossed his arms—

“Need some help with that?”

Castiel stilled his arms and turned to Dean. His expression was so obviously torn between amusement and pity, he might as well’ve had two faces. Castiel just grumbled at that, because no, he didn’t need help, he could do this just fine on his own, thank you. Turning back away, Castiel continued his totally unstrained and effortless attempt to spread sunblock on his own back.

Dean, of course, took that as a “yes.”

Fingers clasped around his wrists, guiding them back to their place at Castiel’s sides. “You’re gonna pull somethin’,” Dean said, trying and failing to hold in the laughter at his breath. “And we can’t have that.”

Castiel was about to step away and argue, when Dean’s hand came trailing across his shoulder blades. Any and all protests instantly died in his throat, then came back in the form of a blush. Dean’s touch was rough, almost to the point of painful. Kind of like a massage, he supposed—

No, no. No. Not like a massage, this was definitely not a massage. This was simply Dean trying to rub the sunblock in. Just Dean trying to be helpful. Yeah. That’s all this was…

Okay, a _friendly_ massage. Yeah. Good ol’ regular friendship. He could accept that. But nothing more.

“There,” Dean said once he was done. He gave Castiel a manly slap on the back before handing the sunblock back over. “Now get mine.”

“What—” Castiel stuttered. “Now I..?”

“Yep.” Dean turned away and crossed his arms. “I am also human and cannot do it on my own, believe it or not. So now you get my back.”

...Yup. Just a friendly, platonic massage.

Without a word, Castiel began applying the sunblock. “And keep your hands _above_ the waistline,” Dean added in, as if that’d actually be a problem. Because it wouldn’t be, honestly. Castiel had complete and utter control over his own hands, why couldn’t Dean have faith in that?

“I would’ve brought some sunblock, but it’s usually not so hot out this time’a year,” Dean mentioned.

“Mm-hm.”

“So it’s a good thing you remembered, actually.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Otherwise we probably would’ve gotten burnt up pretty friggin’ bad.”

“Mmmm-hm.”

“And the whole shirtless thing wouldn’t have helped.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“...Then we would’ve had to spend the rest of the trip vegetating in the tent.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Or we would’ve just gone home. Depending on the degree of the burns.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Either way, that would’ve sucked.”

“Yyyyyup.”

“I would’ve hated to call it early, you know? Since it took us so long to get out here and all...

“...Okay, dude. Just how long is this going to take you?”

“Oh. Uh.” Castiel snapped out of...whatever the hell that just was, and clicked the lid of the sunblock closed. “Sorry. All done.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder and gave him a suspicious look. Castiel just smiled in return. “Gimme that,” Dean said, swiping the sunblock out from his hands. “I’ll do the rest myself.” As if that hadn’t already been decided.

While Dean was finishing up with that, Castiel took the time to check out his surroundings. Even though they were still at the edge of the lake, they were already in the woods again, with the roots of the trees kissing the top of the water. Castiel’s eyes followed the path of weathered and stomped grass, and he assumed that was the start of the hiking trail. It continued on down a ways, wrapping around thick tree trunks and trenched walls of dirt and rock. And that looked nice, relaxing. Peaceful. He couldn’t discern much beyond that though, the mess of branches and leaves blending together all too well.

His focus retreated back out of the woods, and oh look—there was Dean, easily within his line of sight. So it wouldn’t be weird if his eyes happened to rove over him. Twice. Maybe three times. Okay, now _four_ times, since those collarbones and toned arms just wouldn’t relent their hold on his attention. And Dean must’ve been spending a lot of time outside, because uh, with a tan like that. Damn.

Castiel quietly observed as Dean rubbed sunblock in over his forehead, his freckles, his nose. When he thought it was completely rubbed in he tossed the sunblock in the canoe, grabbed his inner tube and paddle off the ground, and said, “Alrighty. Let’s go.”

But Castiel couldn’t. He couldn’t go anywhere because Dean had missed a spot on the tip of his nose and damn it, that was too cute.

Dean started walking. “Wait,” Castiel said, stopping him before he could even get passed. Without another word, he looked Dean in the eye and reached a finger to his nose. He swiped off the glob of sunblock, and a grin stretched across his face as Dean’s fell into a confused frown. “Missed a spot.”

And Dean’s response wasn’t to thank him. Instead, he collected any leftover sunblock stuck between his fingers and smeared it right on Castiel’s nose.

“Look’s like you missed one, too.”

“Hey…” Castiel muttered, rubbing it off. “Is this how you repay me?”

Dean, that bastard, just laughed at the question and started down the trail. “Race you to the top.”

“Top of what?”

“Those rocks.”

Dean pointed. Not down the nice, flat trail through the woods, no. He pointed at a freaking cliff. At the steep, giant pile of moss-covered boulders towering to their left.

Castiel’s mouth fell open. “Um. Right. Those rocks.”

“Told you we’d have to do a little bit of climbing first.”

“A little bit? Look at that thing! We’re wearing sandals, Dean. And carrying these paddles, not to mention—it still remains unclear as to why, by the way. I mean, we’re hiking, not canoeing—but I’m going to go ahead and assume a climb like that requires both hands to be free.”

Glancing up at the top, Dean shrugged. “You’ve always loved a challenge, haven’t you?”

“Not when it has the potential to kill me.”

“Okay,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Here’s the deal: if I can get Sam to climb over that without dying, then I sure as hell can get you up there, too. So.”

He grabbed Castiel’s wrist and dragged him to the base of the cliff. “Quit bein’ a baby and climb this with me.”

“But I—”

“Uhp-up-up! You’ll do fine, I promise.”

“Dean…” Castiel whined with a pout. He looked up at the cliff; it must’ve been at least five stories tall. There was no way he could ever—

“C’mon,” Dean intervened, pulling Castiel’s chin down to look him in the eye. “You trust me, right?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes…”

“Good.” Smiling at that, Dean handed his paddle over and stepped towards the cliff. He rubbed his hands together. “See that ledge, about halfway up?”

Castiel glanced upwards, and he spotted what Dean must’ve been talking about. Where one of the larger boulders seemed to flatten out at its top, where it looked to be a good place to stop and rest and quite possibly fall right off of if they weren’t careful—

“What about it?” Castiel asked dreadfully. When he forced his eyes back down to ground level, he found Dean already working his way up the first few rocks.

“I’ll stop and wait for you there. So stay put until then, alright?”

“Um. Alright.”

“And watch out for falling rocks,” Dean added in casually. As if it wasn’t as dangerous as he should’ve made it out to be. “I know where the loose ones are, but I may or may not accidentally kick a few free.”

Oh. So Castiel wasn’t going to be safe up there or on ground. Awesome. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Good. Other than that, just sit back and watch how it’s done. Got it?”

Gripping one paddle in each hand and wearing an inner tube for a sash, Castiel just stood there and said an affirmative, “Yup. Got it,” and prayed this would blow over without an accident.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The greatest upside to scaling this damn cliff, Castiel discovered, was that he got a pretty decent view of Dean’s ass watching him climb first.

Other than that, this was surely destined to be a complete and utter disaster.

For one thing, Dean had made it to the ledge just fine, but not without giving Castiel three heart attacks along the way. Grabbing an unstable rock once, losing his footing twice. He was able to regain his hold and his footing, thank God. But if Castiel had to prepare himself to watch his best friend plummet to his death…

Well. That was not something he’d put up with much longer.

Dean said not to worry, of course, that he was fine, that he knew what he was doing, that he’d done this before and survived. Obviously he had survived, he was right there, still very much alive and shit. But that wasn’t going to be lasting very long now, was it? Because even if Dean made it to the top safe and sound, Castiel swore he was going to kill him for making him worry this much.

Once Dean made it to the ledge, he had Castiel throw the paddles up to him. It took a few tries, but from there Dean chucked them to the top of the cliff where they disappeared over the edge. Then Dean wiped his hands clean and sat down. Feet dangling over the ledge, he prompted Castiel to start climbing.

And it was the easiest thing in the world, honestly. All he had to do was put one foot higher than the other and repeat the motion over and over again. With Dean guiding him through it, there wasn’t a worry to be had. Hell, a straight vertical drop onto solid ground was nothing to be afraid of. Nope. Nothing at all. This was just like climbing the rope in gym class, Castiel told himself. Just on jagged rocks instead, with no cushy mats beneath. Or he could pretend he was simply manning the catwalks above the school theater. Sure, there weren’t any railings here, but that was no big deal. He didn’t need such a thing anyway. This was a piece of cake.

Really, it was.

He’d reached the ledge at last, and Dean at least had the decency to grab hold of his wrist and help him up. So that was nice, having Dean to rely on in that moment of accomplishment and triumph. Too bad he had to ruin it, by faking that he lost his grip. It was only for a split second, but it spiraled out into an eternity for Castiel. An eternity of fear and stomach flips and absolute certainty that he was going to fall to his death and drag Dean with him. Because even if Dean lost his grip, Castiel still had his own hand wrapped crushingly tight around Dean’s wrist.

But then Dean’s grip retightened, and nothing was funnier to him than the look of sheer terror that overtook Castiel’s poor face. After a quick apology, Dean resumed pulling him up, and a trembling Castiel was finally safe on the ledge.

Things weren’t looking quite so up for Dean, however. He was very distracted by his own laughter and pride for pulling that little stunt off, and if Castiel hadn’t been shaking so bad, he would’ve taken the opportunity right then and there to push him off. Instead, he settled on aiming a handful of not-so-nice words at his jackass of a friend. Because _wow_. That had been extremely unnecessary.

They agreed it was a fine time for a break, so Castiel curled his knees into his chest and stared at the moss-plastered wall while Dean had took the time to enjoy the view. Dean insisted on his friend joining him multiple times, all to which Castiel replied, “I can picture it in my head just fine, thanks.” And that was the truth; now everything was too vivid. Nearly dying did that sort of thing to him, apparently.

The shaking finally stopped, and Castiel managed to say that he was ready to keep going. If he was going to die, he’d rather get it over with sooner than later. So, with a rather impolite, “Ladies first,” Dean let him take on the second climb.

Castiel wasn’t exactly a fan of going first, but whatever. That was fine. Sooner than later, he thought with a reluctant pout. Sooner than later.

Wiping his palms as free from sweat as he could, Castiel considered telling Dean how he felt right then and there. This wasn’t anywhere near what he had in mind when he thought of the “perfect moment” to do so. But, given the circumstances, he figured there wouldn’t be a second of time to tell Dean afterwards. Either he’d have his hands wringing the bastard’s neck once this was over, or he’d be too dead himself.

“There’s something you should know, Dean,” he said, starting the ascent. “Something I should tell you now, in case I don’t make it out alive.”

“And that would be..?” Dean prompted.

“...” Castiel stewed in silence, holding back a grunt as he threw himself over a jagged rock. He opened his mouth to speak—when his foot slipped on a patch of moss, switching his words around in an instant. “That you’re an ass, and I hate you,” he said at last. Feet scrambled against the rock, until he was finally able to regain solid footing. He held his breath like that would be the end of his life had he not. Nothing in the world could’ve changed what came out of his mouth next. “Absolutely, undeniably, one-hundred percent. Hate. You.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Dean said, feigning hurt.

“I really do.”

“Whatever you say, man. Just keep climbin’, alright?”

Cursing under his breath, Castiel did just that.

And hey, it was still a piece of cake. From one rock to the next, he made it his life’s goal to get this second half over with quicker than the first. He was nearly at the top, with Dean cheering him on as he reached the last stretch. Practically hugging one of the boulders at this point, Castiel chanced a look downwards and wow.

That was a mistake.

His shoulders and knees immediately locked up, eyes shutting tight against the imminent threat of death. Great. Now he couldn’t move at all.

“Dean,” he grumbled, latching onto the rock even tighter. “I’m sorry, I can’t—I’m...I’m done. I give up. I accept my fate.”

Dean replied in the most unconcerned of tones. “Told you not to look down.”

“This isn’t funny, Dean!”

“Really? Because uh, it looks pretty damn funny from where I’m standing.”

“Oh, piss off! You fuckin’...”

“Whoa, that your accent coming out? Been a while since I heard that. You must be _really_ freaked out—”

“Shut up! I swear if you don't I'm going to come back down there and kill you! So shut up!”

“Hey, don’t worry. You’re doing great,” Dean said, having the decency to at least try holding in his laughter. “Just keep going. You’re almost there. Keep in mind that I’ll catch you, if you fall.”

“Nice to know you have faith in me.” _Not_. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dean said all too proudly. Castiel didn’t budge an inch. Sighing, Dean went on. “Now it’s your turn to have faith in yourself. So c’mon, Cas. I know you can do this. All you gotta do is give yourself the chance to prove it.”

Dean believed in him. Sure, he poked fun at him the entire way up, but he believed in him. That hadn’t really hit Castiel until now.

His grip loosened. Just the tiniest bit, but it loosened. The tension in his shoulders slowly drained, muscles unwinding and finding peace with his current state. Even with his pulse thumping wildly in his ears, that was still a nice feeling. Castiel focused on that feeling, breathing in and out, in and out, until the rest of him felt at ease.

Okay. He could move. He could do this.

Pushing his glasses in place, Castiel started climbing again.

And he kept on climbing. Without looking up or down, simply focusing on the here and now to keep his mind off of what could be. Dean cheered him on, and that’s what kept him moving. He could do this. He was going to make it to the top.

And made it to the top he did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the hike had been a breeze, after that climb. An absolute stroll.

Castiel was awarded a spectacular view of the lake on top of the cliff. A lively reflection of the sky, a mirror shimmering in the light of the sun. Dean, sitting by his side, tried convincing Castiel that the view made the whole climb worth it. That their ability to overcome such an obstacle wasn’t for nothing. Admiring the water and trees and islands in between, Castiel felt his nerves subside almost immediately. Right then and there, he decided that it was in fact worth it. Castiel no longer felt the overwhelming urge to strangle his best friend. So that was a plus.

“It’s still kind of hilarious, though,” Dean said, giving him a nudge. “How scared you got.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t shit your pants the first time you scaled that thing.”

“You shit your pants?” Dean laughed, and Castiel just about smacked his face.

“It’s a figure of speech, _dumbass_.”

Dean, he just kept laughing. “ ‘Oh, pess off, Dean!’ ” he said, raising the pitch of his voice and giving what Castiel would declare the worst, most insulting attempt at a British accent his ears had the misfortune of receiving. “ ‘You fuckin’—you bloody wang-kah! Look-it! You’ve made me drop a doodee in me trousers!’ ”

“Oh my god.”

“ ‘I’m rightful miffed now!’ ”

“Oh my god, I do _not_ sound like that!”

“You did for a second there.”

Castiel just grumbled. Okay. Remember how he didn’t want to strangle Dean to death anymore? Well. He’ll gladly take that back now.

But the opportunity was sorely passed. Dean stood back on his feet, and he made the call to keep moving along their path.

The continuing trail led away from the lake, much like the one in the woods. Up here, however, the view was much more open on one side, with their eyes grazing the tops of the trees from above rather than below. Castiel often commented on the sight, unable to stop himself from cutting off Dean talking about everything and nothing. He’d apologize, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy, in fact, that Castiel was able to start enjoying the day again.

The trail had a shallow enough incline so that after a while, the rest of the world rose and rejoined them at their height. The trees stood over them again, and Castiel was glad to have the shade. It was already hot, though the sun still hadn’t reached its highest point yet. The golden beams of light shining down between the branches and leaves was a pleasant sight.

All too lost in his surroundings, Castiel hardly noticed how curved and zig-zagged the trail had become. It wasn’t much longer that he noted the faint dribble of running water. Given that they’d been walking away from the lake, he hadn’t expected to hear that any time soon. At first he ignored it, thinking his ears were just playing tricks on him, but then it kept going. It even got louder. Quicker, perhaps. But the progression had been so gradual, Castiel hardly noticed it. When the side of the trail opened up, it finally hit him.

They’d been following a river, the trail mimicking its slow bends and curves alongside the coursing water.

“Oh,” Castiel said, standing and staring at the gravelly riverbank. He lifted his paddle to Dean and pointed to the inner tube wrapped around his shoulder. “So that’s what we need these for.”

“That’s right,” Dean said. He hadn’t missed the opportunity to muss his friend’s hair while he was distracted. “we’re gonna ride the river back.”

At the time, it seemed like a clever idea. To simply drift their way back on the inner tubes, fun and relaxing at the same time. With some gnarly blisters forming on his heels, Castiel even thought it was the better way to go, as opposed to walking.

But now, as he stood knee-deep in the coursing, freezing water, he didn’t think it’d be so great after all.

They’d reached the end of the trail, so there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. Sure, there were still miles and miles of wilderness in every direction, but that was exactly why it would be a bad idea to go wandering off out here. They’d never find their way back. But walking back was sure to add more blisters on his ankles. So, river it was.

Dean, of course, had already cannonballed right in.

Luckily Castiel was standing far back enough to not get caught in the splash zone. Dean resurfaced soon after, shaking the water from his hair and whooping from the cold. “Whew, that feels good! C’mon, Cas! The water’s fine!”

Castiel peered over the edge. The trail led them to some sort of swimming hole, where the river widened up and became a pool for the water to slowly mix. The current was nice and calm here, almost at a dead stop. At a certain point the water deepened significantly, the large rocks that covered the bottom disappearing beneath the shadows and distance. Definitely deep enough to tread in. Castiel stepped in.

Definitely not warm enough to swim in.

Shivering, Castiel glanced out at Dean. Just watching him paddle around, he began to feel that much colder. “This water is freezing…” he mumbled. He stood in the shallow depths for as long as he could, until his little toes couldn’t take it anymore. How Dean was able to simply throw himself in went right over his head.

“Jump in. You’ll get used to it faster that way.”

“That, or I’ll go into shock and die of hypothermia.”

“Aw, c’mon. Where’s your spirit of adventure?” Dean dipped under the water again. He swam a couple yards out before resurfacing. “You’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Don’t make me throw you in.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Castiel said, crossing his arms.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna swim with me or not?”

Hm. Cold as it was, Castiel couldn’t ignore that invite forever.

Without another word, he took the inner tube off his shoulder and set it in the grass. Then he kicked his sandals off. The soreness in his feet dissipated as his toes curled in the sand-like rocks. He focused on that feeling, ignoring the frantic voice in his head chanting _it’s too damn cold don’t jump in._ Hoping Dean wouldn’t step on them later, he plucked his glasses off and set them on a rock near the shore. Squinting at the blur of stones and water before him, Castiel stepped on over to the spot Dean had jumped from.

“Do a flip!”

Castiel rolled his eyes, giving a short laugh. “Mm, how about I don’t.”

“I know you can.”

“I’m not high up enough.”

“Sure you are.”

Castiel scoffed. “There’s what, a mere five-inch difference from where I’m standing to the surface of the water? And right below that, solid, bone-breaking rocks? So, yeah. No,” he said with a grin, “I think I’ll pass.”

“What about a backflip? You can totally do it from there. Easy peasy.”

“No thanks.”

“Yes please.”

“Do you want me to break my neck?”

“No,” Dean said childishly, “I want you to do a backflip.”

“Why?”

“Because it’d be awesome. So c’mon.” Dean splashed water at him. “Quit bein’ so modest. Show off a bit.”

“Dean, I’m not—”

“C’mon, Cas! Impress me with your diving prowess,” Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Wow. You know what? That settles it. I’m not going to.”

“Whaaat??”

“You heard me,” Castiel sassed. He put his hands over his hips. “Because you said that, and only because you said that, I’m not going to.”

“Psh. Lame…”

And just to get Dean to stop talking, Castiel stepped back and prepared to leap into the river. He glanced down at the rocks beneath the surface, calculating how hard he’d have to push himself off to get passed them and into the deep waters. Before he could talk himself out of it, Castiel ran forward, and leapt off the bank.

 _Cold. Cold cold cold._ That was the only thought to come to mind the second he hit water. Instinct kicked in, and he resurfaced immediately. He could hardly control the heavy exhales of breath that followed. “Oh, that is cold!” he said, treading with more intent than necessary. “So very cold…”

Dean laughed. “You’ll get used to it.” He circled Cas, floating on his back as he lazily kicked about. “Had you not argued with me for so long, you probably would’ve gotten used to it already. Like me!”

“Oh hush,” Castiel mumbled as he sent a petty splash his way. At least it wasn’t a painful cold. Just...surprising, was all.

Dean did a good job distracting him from it, though. After paddling out to the middle, they started a game of Marco Polo. Given that it was just the two of them, Castiel thought it a poor idea, but Dean didn’t seem to care and began the game without his consent.

Dean tended to win the rounds more quickly than Castiel. It could’ve been that he was the better swimmer of the two, that Castiel’s measly attempts to ward him off with splashing hadn’t affected him in the slightest. Or that he was a big fat cheater and opened his eyes before he even caught Castiel. It was all of the above, most likely. That was only to be expected, though. No matter how many rounds they’d played of this game after swim and dive practice, Dean always came on top as winner.

Dean had dunked his head underwater for what must’ve been the fiftieth time, when Castiel decided that he’d had enough of it. Next time Dean called “Marco,” instead of replying and swimming away, he’d stay quiet. He’d sneak up on him, and bam! Give him a taste of his own medicine. It was the perfect plan.

As quietly as he could, Castiel swam his way around and behind him. Dean called out “Marco” twice, but the smirk on Castiel’s lips kept them shut. Okay. Here was his chance.

Just as he was about to attack, Dean spun around and tackled him under the water.

“Ah ha!” Dean yelled just before they sunk in. Still intent on revenge, Castiel clung tight and dragged Dean down with him. He wasn’t going to let Dean muck up his plan that fast. And it was working. No matter how hard Dean tried wriggling free, Castiel’s grip never faltered. Dean’s fingers clasped over his arms in a violent attempt to pluck them off, but it was no use. Ha! He had ‘im now—

Castiel’s sides sparked with a tingling sort of pain, and he gasped. Because that was a smart thing to do underwater. Real smart. Immediately he relented his hold on Dean. Already desperate to expel the water from his throat and lungs, he furiously kicked his way back to the top.

He coughed the moment he broke the surface. He coughed again, and again until his lungs were on fire and free of water. All the while, Dean tread calmly nearby, laughing at his friend’s failed attempt at revenge.

“Nice try,” he said, “but I know your ultimate weakness: when all else fails, tickle the son of a bitch.”

“Well then,” Castiel managed between coughs. “Please, keep rubbing it in as I die. It really helps speed the process along.”

“Serves you right. First you cheat your way through a round of Marco Polo, then you try drowning me—feeble attempt, by the way. Seems to me you were askin’ for it.”

“You jerk! You’ve been doing that to me the past half hour!”

“Psh. You’re delusional.”

“And you’re an ass!”

“And your mother is an ape!”

“You—” Castiel had his arm wound up to splash him, but that had him frowning instead. “What?”

Dean tried holding in his laughter. Needless to say, it didn’t work out quite as he hoped. “That’s right. You heard me,” he said, “your mother. Is. An. Ape.”

“Wow.” Castiel dropped his arm and rolled his eyes. “Look out everyone, it’s Dean Winchester. The King of Comebacks.”

“Damn right I am.”

God, why was he in love with this idiot, again?

Smirking, Castiel started his way towards the bank. “I’m calling Marco Polo off. So congratulations, I hereby declare you winner. I sincerely hope that decreasing the value of our friendship was worth it.”

“Oh, so worth it.”

Upon climbing back onto land, Castiel sidled his glasses in place and sat cross-legged in the grass. He leant back on his palms, unwilling to move any further in sake of catching his breath. With the sun high in the sky, he was thankful for the coldness of the river. Drops ran from his hair, down his chest and over his arms. His shorts clung to his hips and thighs. Altogether, the water coated his entire body in a thin layer of dew. And God, was it refreshing.

Dean splashed around a while longer, until he realized just how lonely it was to swim by himself or something like that. Castiel settled on that, though, as it gave him a reason to smile as Dean took a seat by his side. The smile lingered, even as they sat in silence for what felt like minutes.

Then out of nowhere, Dean reached over and ruffled his hair. “Ready to head back?” he asked.

Castiel shrugged, resisting the urge to lean in to the touch. “Only if you are.”

Dean considered that a moment, then nodded. “It’s gonna to take us at least an hour to get back to the lake, and I’m gettin’ hungry.”

“Same goes for me.”

“Then it’s settled.” At that, Dean stood and walked over to where he’d thrown his inner tube prior to jumping in the river. Castiel would’ve gotten up to fetch his as well, when Dean snatched it from the gravel and tossed it over.

They spent the better part of the next ten minutes inflating the inner tubes. Dean had his done and ready to go much quicker than Castiel, though. And that seemed almost unnatural, as a wave of lightheadedness would strike just about every ten seconds. How Dean was able to push through that—or not even get them—was beyond Castiel. By the time he finally had his inner tube inflated, Dean had already jumped back into the river with his own. He’d been paddling in crooked, aimless circles, whistling a tune as he waited. Dean was patient enough to call him a slowpoke only six times, but hey, who was keeping track?

Castiel was still somewhat accustomed to the cold water upon reentry. Paddle in hand, he cast his inner tube out onto the river and hopped on. “All set,” he said with a grin.

Dean smiled back. “Alright. Let’s get going, then.”

And as it turned out, he made paddling on these things look a lot easier than he should’ve. These paddles were double-ended, however, unlike the oars for the canoe. So that was a plus; now Castiel didn’t have to worry about switching sides. Neither were the inner tubes as tippy as the canoe. Instead, the hard part was maintaining an even pace. Castiel felt as if his arms would fall off if he were to reach the speed Dean went at times. Dean held onto his patience though, slowing or even stopping to let him catch up.

“I’m suddenly starting to think it would’ve been easier to walk,” Castiel said as he approached Dean.

“It’ll be easier once the current picks up,” Dean replied, pushing Castiel back with the end of his paddle. “And trust me, it will pick up.”

“Yeah?”

Dean nodded. “Oh yeah. For now, we’re using these things to keep up our momentum. But once we hit the rapids, they’ll just be for steering. Which reminds me.” Dean dipped one leg in the water to spin himself around. Facing Castiel straight on, he said, “For your own sake, please use the tether on your paddle.”

“For my sake?” That sounded comforting.

“Yes, for your sake. There’s going to be white water and rocks and all sorts of crazy crap coming up soon, so it’s within your best interest to keep that thing in your grasp. And don’t paddle against the current, or perpendicular to it. If you need to get out of the water and stop, just go down the water on a diagonal. It’ll be a lot easier and it’ll keep you from panicking when things don’t go your way. So practice up while you can. Being able to steer properly will save your life—especially when the river splits.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “What happens when the river splits?”

“We go left. I’ve already been down that way before, and it’s pretty safe. So remember that,” Dean said intently. “We go left.”

“Got it.”

“Which way do we go?”

“Left.”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

“What’s down the right?”

“No clue, but I’m not willing to find out. Long as we go the same way I’ve always gone, we should be fine.”

Alright, so they just had to go down the left. That shouldn’t be too hard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They did not go left.

Or maybe they did. At this point it was hard to remember, exactly. Had they not been goofing off so much when the river split, maybe he could’ve recalled it better.

Either way, Castiel just knew they weren’t going the way they were supposed to.

For one thing, Dean was panicking. Dean, who fell asleep watching scary movies, who took speed limit signs as a challenge, who had just scaled a freaking cliff without batting an eye, was panicking and flailing and making loud noises with his mouth. It was hard to hear just what he was saying over the white roar of the rapids, but it must’ve consisted of “Shit!” or “Son of a bitch!”

The current churned Castiel around in so many circles that he could hardly tell which way the river was even flowing. He couldn’t tell where Dean was, only showing up in his line of sight when he was facing the right way. All he knew was that if his tube scraped over one more rock, it was going to pop, and he would get eaten by the rapids and drown and die.

Any and all attempts Castiel made to right his positioning were immediately overwhelmed by the force of the current. _We were going to be steering, my ass_. Instead of using the paddle as Dean instructed him, Castiel had long since tucked it under one arm while his fingers clenched onto the handles of his inner tube for dear life.

Panicked, overwhelmed, Castiel shut his eyes tight. It’s not like he could see much of anything anyway. There was just too much water. His eyes were showered on with every splash. Like a windshield without the wipers. Like wheels without the steering. Like a gas pedal without the break. Going down this river was like that one time his car rolled down a freaking hill.

“Cas!”

He dared peep his eyes open, and just in time too. Set before him was a rock, protruding out from the water enough to crush his face in had he let it. But by some miracle he was quick enough to grab his paddle and push himself out of its way.

Sent in another spiral, Castiel was turned around in time to see Dean dodge the same rock. There was no use in steering his way out, so he reached out his paddle and let that be the point of contact. It snapped in half upon impact.

Castiel called out to him, when Dean was swallowed by a heaping splash, disappearing yet again from his sight. “Dean!”

Before he could call out again, Castiel was swept around a sharp bend, ramming into the wall of solid dirt and rock that was the riverbank. By the time he thought of grabbing hold and getting off this damn ride, he was already spinning out to the middle of the current. Oh well. At least out here he didn’t have to worry about scraping his ass on a bunch of rocks. Just the inevitability of puking his guts, getting knocked out, or drowning was all. Maybe all three, but hopefully not all at once.

For the love of God, please not all at once.

...Okay. Trying to get his bearings was getting him nowhere. Paddling helplessly and excessively wasn’t doing much for him either. Maybe he’d be better off if he just gave up and only kept watch for the occasional protruding boulder. And Dean. It’d be nice to know if Dean was still above surface. But if he focused on simple things like breathing, he’d be able to get through this mentally, at least. Because he was Castiel Novak damn it, and he wasn’t going to have two mental breakdowns in one day.

So he did just that.

By some miracle it worked. It wasn’t nearly soon enough, but eventually the rapids died down to mere ripples, and the river widened into another pool. It took a little while longer for his head to stop spinning, but now Castiel could finally let out a sigh of relief. He slumped back and plopped his hands into the water. He closed his eyes. He let his chest rise and fall with the teetering waves. He double-checked to make sure this was still what life felt like. He was in one piece, and he was alive. He was okay. Everything would be—

Wait.

 _Dean_.

And just like that, Castiel snapped his eyes back open and sat upright. “Dean?” he called out, spinning his head around. He looked back upstream, and boy that did not help the fear churning at the pit of his stomach. How Castiel was even able to miss all those rocks was beyond him and certainly not worth pondering. What was even worse to think about was Dean, because he was supposed to be right there. Right behind him.

Problem was, Dean wasn’t there.

Castiel was about to call out again, when a boisterous “Over here!” was enough to calm his nerves. He quickly spun back around. At first he saw nothing, just another bend where the river started to narrow again. But he let the water carry him downstream, silently trusting that he hadn’t lost his mind and wasn’t hearing things. Because that was definitely Dean who said that. Right?

Just as he was about to declare himself insane, Dean slowly came into view, just beyond the bend. Inspecting what was left of his broken paddle, Dean absentmindedly called out, “What took you so long?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. There were too many answers to that question, most of which included a past-due and well-deserved flip of the bird. Instead, he settled on leaving it unanswered. He hoped crossed arms and a brooding stare was enough to communicate just how he felt.

But even from this distance, even with his glasses covered in droplets of water, it was hard to miss that smirk growing on Dean’s stupid face. “I take it you aren’t happy with me.”

“And I take it we went the wrong way.”

“Maybe,” Dean admitted, “but hey. Least I finally know what’s down this way.”

“Good. Now you also know to never. Ever. Go. Here. Again.”

“Are you kidding?? That was awesome!” Dean said with a laugh. “I almost want to do it again.” His smile disappeared when he focused back on just how snapped in half his paddle was. “Though I am kind of mad about this...”

“You’re crazy.”

Dean ignored that comment and shrugged. “Ah well. These were cheap anyways.”

Castiel gave up. He unfolded his arms and leant back. He let his hands drop back into the water and closed his eyes. The sunlight, in its warm and relaxing ways, fell over his skin. Water streamed between his fingers and toes, a feeling cool in contrast with the sun, and oddly rejuvenating because of that. Castiel tried ignoring the pounding of his heart and focused on the soft trickles of the current, a pleasant reassurance that they were no longer hurtling through rapids and dodging boulders. His stomach was still doing flips, but at least the rest of him was able to calm down.

Dean fought against the mild current while Castiel caught up with him. “I have to admit,” Castiel sighed, peeking one eye open at him, “that was kinda fun…”

“You really think so?”

“...Just a smidge.”

“Ha-ha!” Dean proceeded to punch the air. “Ten points for Dean.”

“Shut up.”

“I knew it. Behind every scowl you make at me is a kid who just wants to have fun.”

“I said shut it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? I bet I’m right.”

“It’s a secret.”

“C’mon, Cas. Let your spirit of adventure roam free!”

Castiel shot him a look. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because...well, because I said so.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Okay Dean. If you say so.”

It was a nice day, and it was still summer after all. So why not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 2A ST:  
> Featherstone - The Paper Kites  
> Lonesome Dreams - Lord Huron  
> The Biggest Pile of Leaves You Have Ever Seen - Lullatone  
> Hard Sun - Eddie Vedder  
> Blow The Man Down - Robert Shaw Chorale  
> Upside Down - Jack Johnson  
> Dirty Paws - Of Mice and Men  
> Blue RIdge Mountains - Fleet Foxes  
> Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes  
> Woodland - The Paper Kites  
> La Belle Fleur Sauvage - Lord Huron  
> Fireworks - Yoya  
>   
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	4. Day 2B - River Rapids & Pirate Shanties

“Uh. Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you do, don’t panic.”

“Hm?” Castiel frowned at him questioningly. Dean had let himself fall behind again, and the fact that he was currently glancing over Castiel’s head with a worried look wasn’t all that comforting. Neither was the loudening roar of rushing water. That being said, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together with this one.

“There’s a huge waterfall behind me, isn’t there?”

“Yup.”

At this point, Castiel wasn’t sure how to react. They’d certainly faced enough peril for the day. So whether he decided on feeling annoyed or afraid, he assumed surprise wouldn’t be a factor. His assumption was proven correct when he felt the urge to roll his eyes rather than scramble for the nearest rock to cling on.

“Alright,” he sighed, resettling his ass in the inner tube. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait. What?” Dean traded his concerned expression in for something confused. “That'syour attitude toward this??”

“Uh huh.”

“Wha—after all that bitching at the climb, and the rapids...you’re just gonna kick back and say screw it?”

“Uhhhhh-huh.”

Dean let out a flabbergasted sigh as his gaze flitted back to the apparent doom that awaited them both. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but uh. Out of everything we’ve faced today, this looks like it could be the worst.”

“What, nearly dropping me off the side of a cliff wasn’t bad enough??” Castiel rebutted with a laugh.

“No,” Dean whined. “Look, I’m sorry about that, alright? But I’m actually starting to freak out here, man.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.”

“I’m not! Seriously, we need to—”

“You know what I’ve learned today? It’s that fear can be your worst enemy. And when—”

“We need to move!”

Castiel, in his justifiably calm manner, raised a hand at him. “I wasn’t finished. I would greatly appreciate it if you weren’t so rude to interrupt, you know.”

“Rude?! You interrupted me! I’m trying to save your damn life—Cas!”

Pff. As if. Castiel opened his mouth to speak, when an instinctive scream came out instead. The water disappeared out from under him.

He fell, and his stomach sank as his legs were suddenly thrust upward to the sky. Everything slowed. He could trace the water that fell with him, beside him. And in the split second it took for him to hit that water again, he was absolutely unable to right himself. So of course he had to land shoulders-first, his legs shortly following as the inner tube flipped over on top. God, he was so going to hit the bottom. His neck was going to be broken within the next half-second, he was sure of it. The river wasn’t deep enough. No way. Not from that distance.

But then nothing happened. Castiel hit nothing more as he sunk, and his neck didn’t snap. Instead he scrambled to right himself, his fingertips the only part of him to scrape the solid rock at the bottom of the river. An abundance of water had shot up his nose and ears in the process, but at least he was able to break the surface without breaking anything else.

Blinking the water from his eyes, Castiel quickly snatched the inner tube before it could drift too far away. As for the paddle, he was just glad Dean was smart enough to put tethers on them. He refrained from reeling it in just yet, though. Right now, his biggest concern was to expel the water from his lungs while at the same time try getting himself back on the inner tube. Because as far as he could tell, there was still some river left to go. And the current was doing nothing to slow down.

Dean was able to control his fall better, landing without being flipped over or thrown off his seat—probably due to the fact that he saw the damn fall coming. “You okay?” he shouted over the rumbling course. Castiel may have muttered something along the lines of “go screw yourself” as he finished clambering back onto his inner tube. Getting his last round of coughs out of the way, he glanced up at the waterfall.

Then he laughed.

“That’s it?” he asked, rather amused. It must’ve been what, a five-foot drop? Damn thing was hardly a waterfall. Hell, he’d dove off of platforms six times the size. No wonder he didn’t hit the bottom. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“That’s not it.”

“What do you mean—”

“That’s _not it,_ ” Dean repeated, his eyes just as wide and worried as they were before the drop. Castiel frowned back, confused, until Dean proceeded to point ahead without another word. When Castiel finally turned and saw what lied ahead for himself, he understood at last.

They were absolutely, undeniably, one-hundred percent dead.

“Oh my god! Wh-what do we do??” he sputtered, unable to take his eyes off the waterfall—the real waterfall—hurtling towards them. It didn’t help that the current was still kicking up speed.

“Just hang on!” Dean jammed his paddle into the water, steering himself towards the bank. Castiel followed suit; he discovered it quite easy to get where he wanted when he really meant it. The churning waves tossed him out, but he had just enough panic and adrenaline to fight back and reach the edge. One hand held the paddle tight as the other scratched over the dirt of the bank, scrambling to find purchase somewhere, anywhere. He had to stop soon, before he ended up flat as a pancake against that rock just up ahead—

The rock. He could grab the rock.

Castiel dug his fingers more into the ground in hopes it was actually slowing him down some. Then at the last possible second, he pushed himself outward and reached for the rock. Caked in mud, his hand slipped right across it at first. But by some miracle he was able to get a grip before he passed by completely. Of course the current only made the rest of his body jerk forward, and oh god, that pulled something in his shoulder. Yep. That was going to feel great later. Just great.

He’d have to worry about that some other time, though. Biting back the pain, Castiel reasserted his grip and looked back for Dean. It was hard to see, water flinging up from any conceivable angle, but Dean was just behind as expected. Only he was still scrambling for something to cling onto.

“Dean!” Castiel held out his paddle far as he could. He could only imagine how much worse it’d feel once he had Dean’s weight pulling on his shoulder—but Dean needed his help. So that was still something for later. Castiel braced himself as Dean closed in, hoping he had enough strength and enough of a grip to hold them both. Once within arm’s reach, Dean stretched a hand out for the paddle.

He missed.

“Cas!” The space between them grew all too rapidly as the distance to the waterfall shrank. Before Castiel could even think of letting go and going after him, Dean was thrown ahead and right back into the rapids. He barely managed to shout “Just hang on! Don’t let—” when a wave thrashed into his side flipped him over.

“Dean!” Castiel wrung his fingers a second more before deciding to let go. That was the exact opposite of what Dean was trying to tell him, but screw it. If Dean was going down, he wasn’t going down alone.

Dean resurfaced quickly enough, somehow able to cling onto his inner tube before it was kicked too far away. And that would’ve been a relief to see, if it hadn’t been for the god-knows-how-big of a drop just mere feet ahead. Letting out a nervous groan, Castiel kept his eyes trained on him best as he could. Dean yelled something, but the river was too loud. The waterfall was too close, and Dean was too far to hear. And there wasn’t a damn thing Castiel could do about it. All he could do was watch his best friend fall right over the edge and entirely out of sight, the last hint of his voice completely gone.

All of him—just gone.

Again, Castiel found himself biting back the pain. At this point, he should’ve been worried for himself; it’s not like his fate was going to be much different in a moment here. But he wasn’t. He was worried for Dean, who may or may not’ve already hit the bottom and was in god knows what condition. Hugging his paddle close, Castiel drew his knees in and shut his eyes tight.

He let himself fall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He fell.   

He didn’t know how far or for how long, but he fell. What he did know was that it felt like forever.

He broke the surface hard enough, after all, hearing and feeling a nice big _slap_ before he was engulfed in water. Engulfed in the silence. He was forced into a couple of tumbling flips, and he just knew that’d be of great help once he tried getting his bearings.

Once he finally settled, the waterfall pounded against his right side. That had to be the way back up. Castiel wasted no time in kicking his way to the top. He had to be sure Dean made it, too.

Thankful he hadn’t breathed in any water on his way down, Castiel resurfaced with a gasp. He opened his eyes to the sun, and immediately redirected his sight outwards instead of up. “Dean!” he yelled, frantically glancing about. Castiel knew it was hopeless to call out in the first place, with the waterfall roaring just behind him. But he called out again, and again and again as he searched left and right. He quickly gathered that he was back at the lake in some cove, a blurry mess of trees encircling the area. But that was it. That was all he could find, aside from the inner tubes and—

And a broken paddle, floating aimlessly across the ripples in the water.

Castiel swam over to it tentatively, knowing it was Dean’s that had snapped in half like that. It was stupid to think so, but that couldn’t have been a good sign if that was all Castiel could find of him. Treading nervously, Castiel stopped to glare at it and hoped that wasn’t the case. Then his stomach dropped. Because at least Castiel had an inner tube to cushion his fall. Dean didn’t. Dean had nothing, and he probably dropped through the water like a rock. He probably hit one, too. Oh, god. Dean was probably—

Before Castiel could even finish that thought, something came crashing onto his back and shoved him underwater. An instinctive yelp left his mouth just before he was completely submerged. The hell was that, a log?? Before he could think or sink much further, reflexes kicked in. He reached back, shoved whatever it was off of him, and swam up to the surface.

It was Dean. And he was alive.

“Gotcha.”

“You _idiot!!”_ Castiel exclaimed, not even fighting the urge to slap that smirk right off his face. “I thought you were dead!”

Dean was prepared for that enough to block the fist coming his way. “Wouldn’t you be a bit more happy to see me alive then?” he managed between laughs. “Just a little?”

“No!” He went for another swing.

Once again, Dean blocked it without so much as batting an eye. “Aw c’mon, Cas.”

“Don’t ‘aw c’mon Cas’ me! That was not okay! In any shape or form, that was _not_ okay!”

“If it’s any consolation, I knew that waterfall would be there the whole time.”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’ve been down this split before. I knew we’d be fine.”

“You...you knew,” Castiel stated. “Apologize, you ass!”

Dean just laughed.

“Agh!” Castiel let out a much needed scream and finally got in the punch he’d been going for. If the sound Castiel’s hand made as it smacked Dean across the face managed to scare away some birds in a nearby tree, neither would’ve been too surprised. “This isn’t funny, Dean!”

“Okay, okay! Just calm down—”

“Calm down? Do you have any idea how worried I was??”

“Very, apparently.”

“Yeah, so don’t ever do something like that again!”

“No promises,” Dean said easily enough. It wasn’t hard to see that even after getting punched in the face, he was still having trouble holding back his laughter. And Castiel had to take in a deep breath. Because no, he wasn’t about to let himself cry over this. That’d be stupid.

“I’m serious,” he murmured. “I really thought you were...that you were gone…”

“Hey.” That was enough to turn Dean’s attitude around. “I’m right here, Cas. I’m okay.”

“Yeah, _you’re_ okay,” Castiel mumbled, dejectedly swimming away. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel kept going. Where to didn’t matter, long as it was away from Dean’s stupid face...

“Hey, get back here. I wanna show you somethin’.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Not bothering to look back, he said, “No thanks.”

“It’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m not interested.”

“C’mon man. Please?” Dean coaxed. “It’s the whole reason I took you this way.”

“Oh, so it _wasn’t_ to scare the living hell out of me?”

“Nah, that was just a bonus.”

Oh, that bastard. So done with him, Castiel turned back and put on his most brooding glare. And in case that wasn’t enough, he rose his middle finger out from the water, slow enough to let it be known just how done he was. Because words sure as hell weren’t getting the point across.

Unfazed, Dean just shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said before flipping back towards the waterfall. He continued swimming that way, and Castiel deemed it safe to lower his hand into the water again. No amount of silent rage could drive the point into Dean’s thick skull, apparently.

But then Dean kept on swimming. He neared the waterfall, and Castiel felt a little less angry and a bit more confused. “Where are you—” was all he could say before Dean dove straight underneath the fall and vanished from sight.

Frowning, Castiel gave his surroundings a quick glance and sighed. Their campsite, their canoe, not even their island was in sight. He wasn’t about to go find them on his own. And he couldn’t just leave Dean here, either. That’d be rude, even after all the crap he’d just put him through.

So...fine! Back to the waterfall it was.

Castiel approached it hesitantly, unsure where Dean had disappeared to, exactly. It almost looked like Dean had swam under the fall. So, perhaps he’d gone behind it? But what was even back there, aside from a wall of dirt and rock? And how would he get past the fall without being pummeled to the bottom of the lake? Surely this thing was cranking out tons of water within mere seconds.

Once he was close enough to feel the mist come off of the fall, Castiel stopped progressing. He gazed upwards, up at the height he’d fallen just minutes ago. It might not’ve been as tall as he’d initially thought, but it was quite dizzying to look at, especially from such a close angle. The water rushed towards him in the relentless manner only gravity and mother nature could be responsible for. It sounded more like a sizzle or hiss, but he could feel the vibrations of its roar permeate the churning water before him. If he were to swim under that, he’d have to do it fast.

Figuring he had nowhere else to go, he took a deep breath and did just that.

And it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it up to be. The waterfall definitely pounded down on top of him, but after diving down a couple extra feet it wasn’t so bad. He made sure to keep his arms outstretched ahead of himself to avoid ramming into any walls. But he didn’t run into a single thing as he kicked along. Once he no longer felt the waterfall rage above him, Castiel deemed it safe to resurface.

He’d made it to some sort of cave. The walls were made of the same chunked, black rock he’d been dodging along the river. Mist from the fall wafted in, condensing on the walls in a light, dripping dew. The only light to shine in was that able to make it through the waterfall, coming in fickle and dim. Castiel swam forward, mesmerized by the dancing light reflected off the water and onto the ceiling. It almost looked like those pictures of the northern lights in his astronomy books, only…more watery.

Flat solid ground flanked both sides of the cave, dotted in small boulders and patches of moss. Each side eventually joined one another at the back in some lopsided variation of the U-shape. The boulders piled higher and grew larger as they neared the back, forming an impressive mound that almost reached the ceiling.

Sitting right on top of that mound, of course, was Dean.

“Look who finally decided to show,” he said with a grin. He pointed one of his dangling feet Castiel’s way. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I always do,” Castiel agreed easily enough— _whoa_. He resisted the urge to yell “Echo!” just to hear his voice bounce across the walls again. Because that sounded too awesome. Instead, he just swam to the back of the cave as Dean climbed down to meet him at the edge. They wound up in front of one another, Castiel treading in the water as Dean stood over him with crossed arms.

Castiel looked up at Dean, then pointed to the ground he stood on. “Permission to land?”

Dean smiled and stepped to the side. “Permission granted.”

Castiel planted his hands on the cave floor to hoist himself up. “Thank you—” was all he could say before a wave of pain shot from his shoulder. Involuntarily, he sunk back into the water and bit back a noise that surely would’ve been embarrassing, had he let himself make it.

“Whoa, you okay man?” Dean asked, squatting down to his level. Castiel tried nodding in response, but Dean didn’t buy it for a second. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Castiel denied, setting his hands down again. Before he could give it another go, Dean pinned him down with that questioning look of his. Then Castiel sighed. “...I might have injured my shoulder.”

“You might’ve?” Dean asked, reaching out a hand.

“Yes, I might have,” Castiel grumbled irritably, because there was no use in admitting it a second time. He took Dean’s hand anyway. Together they worked to lift Castiel out of the water and onto solid ground. Castiel sat down cross-legged. He proceeded to roll his shoulder a few times before muttering another thanks Dean’s way.

Dean took a seat by his side. “Scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Um, a five? Only a little. I’m fairly certain I pulled a muscle. Or I almost did—I don’t know. It’s just discomforting.”

“Right…well. I guess we’ll have to keep an eye on it for now.” Without permission, Dean grabbed his elbow and lifted it to the side, inspecting his shoulder like the fake doctor he was. “Does that hurt?”

“Yes,” Castiel hissed, attempting to reclaim possession of his own arm. At that Dean let him go, but started poking his shoulder instead.

“Does that hurt?”

“Stop it.”

“Aw,” Dean tilted his head to the side and gave a mocking pout. “Is someone having a rough time?”

“Dean—”

“Does someone need a hug?”

Before Castiel could even answer, Dean was reaching over with wide arms, that shiteating grin of his plastered on his face. _What an ass_. Rolling his eyes, Castiel pushed him back. “Under any other circumstances, I’d say yes,” he mumbled, pointing his nose the other way.

“Why not this one?”

“Because you’re being an ass! I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“Hey,” Dean laughed, “only tryin’ to help, man.”

“You’re only trying to...be annoying.”

“Good one.”

“Shut it.”

Dean laughed again, but after that he finally did what he was told. And about damn time, if Castiel did say so himself. As Dean sat there twiddling his thumbs, Castiel folded his arms over his knees and let his chin rest on top. He watched the cave walls ahead shift in appearance with the shimmering light, finding it a suitable distraction from the idiot sitting just to his left. The idiot he hated for being so reckless. The idiot who wasn’t really an idiot—just exceptionally gifted in pissing off his friends, whether he had every intention in doing so or not.

Okay, the boy he _loved_. Because Castiel couldn’t tell himself otherwise, no matter how hard he tried.

“You really thought I was dead, huh?”

Castiel widened his eyes at the question, a bit caught off guard. Processing it, he realized it was one he wasn’t too keen on answering. “It certainly crossed my mind,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to the rippling pool of water at his feet. He could only avoid Dean for so long though, as he suddenly felt two eyes stare a hole into the side of his head. When Castiel finally returned a glance, he found Dean holding a thoughtful look.

“Why were you so worried about me, anyway?” he asked, appearing genuinely curious.

And if Castiel hadn’t ever heard a stupid question before, then that was it. _Um, because you’re so reckless? Because you don’t mind if you get hurt, and someone has to??_ With a huff and a frown, Castiel denied all those thoughts and went for the simplest, most truthful one.

“Because I _care_ about you.”  

Castiel was thankful for the echoes. They made it so he didn’t need to say it a second or third time, though he meant it five times over.

It rendered Dean somewhat speechless. And hey, that was a first. As Castiel expected him to brush that statement off and make some sarcastic comment, Dean unfolded his arms and frowned back at him instead. It wasn’t an angry frown, but a thoughtful one. Observant. Inquisitive.

Too inquisitive.

Then it broke into a smirk. “Hey, remember that one time, freshman year? You uh, you walked into the girl’s bathroom?”

“Oh my god...” At that, Castiel immediately buried his face in his arms.

“And Mrs. Goodriche yanked you right out of the door by the ear? Yelling, damn near ready to smack you across the face?” Dean laughed as he went on. “Now, _I_ thought _you_ were dead.”

“How can I possibly forget,” Castiel groaned, shifting uneasily, “when I have you to remind me every other month for the rest of my life.”

Dean only laughed harder. “And then she dragged you down to the front office, letting every living soul in the hallways know just how screwed you were.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Castiel whined, internally begging Dean to shut his mouth. “The sign wasn’t even on the door, it was to the side. And I had forgotten my glasses that day, so I couldn’t even see it correctly—”

“Yeah right, you pervert.”

“It was an aaaaaccideeeeent...”

“Uh huh.”

Giving up, Castiel sighed and lifted his head. Speaking of his glasses, he went to nudge them up his nose, when—

“My glasses,” he sputtered. Because nothing was there. They were gone.

“Hm?” Dean finally came down from his laughing fit and glanced over. “Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“Me neither.” And that was strange. How’d he go so long without realizing his freaking glasses had fallen off? God, no wonder his eyes were getting sore. He must’ve been squinting this entire time. “They probably fell off at one of the falls.”

Dean nodded. “That would make the most sense, yes.”

“And that’s just wonderful,” Castiel sighed, giving him a pout. Without his glasses, how was he supposed to stargaze later that night? Much less, enjoy any of the scenery around here?

“...” Dean put on a thoughtful look for a moment, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes. He tapped his fingers across his knees. “Stay here while I go diving for ‘em?”

“I appreciate the idea, but let’s face it. They’re gone.”

“Is your optimism gone too?”

“Would you like to spend this entire trip looking for my glasses?”

“Yes, actually,” Dean deadpanned, “that’s what I’ve been hoping for all along.”

“Look, they’re gone for good. Probably broken too, so...it’s fine. Just forget it, okay?”

“You saying that, with those mopey, little, messed up eyes of yours, it only makes me want to look even more.” Giving Castiel’s hair a thorough messing-up, Dean grinned and stood. “You know that, right?”

“Dean, don’t—” was all Castiel could say before Dean leapt back into the water. “Or not,” he muttered, watching as Dean swam back out a ways. What was he hoping to find, really?

“Stay there, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Well if you’re going to look for my glasses I might as well look, too. Get twice the coverage.”

“Don’t worry, I got this.”

“But—”

“Sit your fine ass down. I’ll find ‘em.”

“My ‘fine ass’?”

“What? Sorry, I can’t hear you. Over the giant waterfall right behind me!”

 _Liar_. Rolling his eyes, Castiel relented. He plopped his feet into the water and leant back on his elbow. Figured he might as well get comfortable.

Dean took his first few dives while still in the cave, but he went out further with each one. Every once in a while he’d shout an “I’ve almost got ‘em!” or “I know I’m close!” to keep Castiel updated on the matter. But they were obvious lies. Castiel might’ve been the one with missing glasses, but it’s not like Dean could see either. Not underwater, anyway. After what must’ve been his twentieth dive (Castiel had stopped counting after ten), Dean crossed to other side of the fall and disappeared from sight.

At that, Castiel sighed. By the looks of it, he’d be sitting here for quite some time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright, Cas. This is the one. I can feel it.”

Clutching the ropeswing tight, Dean rose his eyebrows at Castiel and grinned. Ignoring the exaggerated eye roll from his friend, Dean drew back, jumped, and swung right off the side of Mars. He whooped as he flailed through the air. He curled in on himself at the last second and hit the water in a perfect cannonball formation. He even made a solid _plunk_ sound as he broke the surface.

Castiel poked his head over the edge of the miniature cliff to assess the damage. The lake rippled and sloshed where Dean must’ve gone under. He resurfaced not a second later, shaking the water from his hair as he cheered himself on again.

Then he looked up at Castiel. “How was that?”

“With form like that, I’d say a solid ten.”

“Really?”

“No. More like a four.”

Dean frowned at that, but nodded in agreement shortly after. “Yeah...but I get points for style, right?”

“Ehhh,” Castiel tilted his hand side to side, “how would points for enthusiasm sound?”

“So an ‘A for effort’ then?”

“Yup.”

Dean shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Castiel gave a quick thumbs up before sitting back again. Picking up his sketchbook, he could hear Dean splash around as he swam to shore. With his shoulder all messed up, Castiel thought it best to leave the ropeswinging to Dean. Dean was determined to keep him involved, however, and he made Castiel his official scorekeeper. “A for effort” was scribbled under “so-so” and “a 5 at best.” Then he finished yet another quick doodle to the side of Dean swinging off the rope.

“You are improving,” Castiel mentioned once Dean was back at his side. He shielded his sketchbook from the water dripping off of him. “Just a bit more control on your release, and you might receive the ‘decent attempt’ score.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean muttered, stepping away to grab the rope. He readied himself for another go, standing as far back as he could while maintaining a firm grasp on the rope. After planting his feet in a running stance, he nodded to Castiel. “Ready when you are.”

Castiel nudged his glasses back in place, then gave a thumbs up. “All set.” And Dean took off yet again.

So he’d retrieved Castiel’s glasses after all. Apparently they’d been wedged between two mucky rocks just left of the fall. It took Dean maybe an hour to find them, but Castiel was surprised (and admittedly glad) that Dean was able to find them at all. The right lense had a couple nice, long scratches across the middle, and one of the hinges was a bit loose. Castiel knew that would get annoying very quickly, and it did. His glasses fell down his nose twice as often as before. But hey, at least they weren’t broken. At least he had them. He was lucky Dean had been so stubborn in searching for them. Anything ten feet away or further no longer looked like a blurry mess, so that was another plus. And he’d have no problem stargazing later. That’s what he was mostly relieved about. He was nearly brought to tears at the thought of missing out on that.

Another thing Castiel was glad to have his glasses for was drawing Dean. Despite the craze they’d put themselves through so far today, Castiel hadn’t forgotten about Dean’s request for a drawing of himself. Now that he had time to sit and think, he’d been trying to decide just how to draw him for a while. And being able to see clearly certainly helped.

As far as he knew, Dean wasn’t aware of the fact that Castiel was jotting down quick gestures each time he leapt off the island. There were already a few of Dean as he’d crouch over the cliff’s edge, planning out his next dismount; a handful of silhouettes as he flew through the air; some close-ups when Castiel caught him making a strange face. It was a nice little exercise for his eyes and hands, but nothing was really standing out. He felt partial to one of his earlier sketches, when Dean fudged up his dismount completely and nearly landed on his back. Oh man, the face he’d made was priceless—

“How was that one?”

“Hm?” Castiel snapped out of it and looked down at Dean. His hands were held up in the middle of a wave. “Come again?”

Sighing, Dean dropped his arms. “You weren’t paying attention.”

“...That may have been the case.”

“Man,” Dean whined, “that was my best one, too!”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it then.” Castiel readied his pencil and paper. “So. What would you score it as?”

“Uh. Best damn ropeswing dismount to ever happen. Ever.”

“Oh,” Castiel nodded, pretending to write that down. He assumed Dean wouldn’t be too happy when in reality, he put “didn’t see it—therefore it didn’t happen.”

By the time he’d finished writing that down, Dean had settled on a patch of grass in the shade. “We can do something else if you’re getting bored,” he suggested, absentmindedly plucking the grass from its roots.

“I’m not bored,” Castiel assured, angling his body towards him. “I’m having a great time, watching you make a fool of yourself repeatedly.”

Dean rose his eyebrows at that. He couldn’t help but grin either. “Yeah? Well we can’t all be perfect, so screw you.”

Castiel laughed. Watching Dean go through the motions again and again was actually quite perfect for drawing. If he hadn’t caught that fleeting pose one time, he could count on Dean making it once more. “I wouldn’t mind staying longer,” he said as he snuck in a quick sketch of Dean’s smile there. “I like it out here. It’s nice.”

“Me too,” Dean mumbled, that smile still lingering. Castiel was glad for it, and not just for drawing’s sake. He cherished the moments Dean could really smile, not just fake it or smirk because he thought he said something funny. And yes, Castiel could tell the difference. It was in the way his eyes scrunched in the corners, the way they lit up. It was contagious and adorable, and it was his life’s force. Nothing could ever wipe that from his memory.

He wished Dean would smile like that forever.

But of course, it faded. The tug on Dean’s lips slowly gave in to default as their conversation fell to silence. Castiel did feel a small bit of pride in capturing that smile in a drawing, he had to admit. However, he also had to remind himself that it came from Dean, not his ability to put things down on paper. He could never conjure something so beautiful on his own.

Satisfied with how that turned out, his brain sorta decided for him that it was time to move onto setting. Dean would need to be placed somewhere in the final drawing, after all. So far, Castiel had narrowed it down to someplace at this lake. He’d certainly found the scenery suiting enough; might as well surround the person he loves with a landscape he loves just as much. A particular view of this one cabin caught his eye, as it sat snug on the shore of the lake, nestled between bushy trees and mellow hills. It meant little within the context of Dean, but it was pleasant to look at so Castiel went ahead and drew it anyway. He wanted to remember every little detail of this lake by the time they left. Doing little studies here and there couldn’t hurt—

“I’m sorry.”

Castiel stilled. Peeking over his drawing, he noticed something akin to guilt had replaced Dean’s smile. “What are you apologizing for?” he asked.

For a moment, Dean just shrugged and did everything he could to avoid eye contact. “For a number of things,” he admitted. “But for starters? Your shoulder. It kinda sucks that I have to have all this fun on my own.”

“It’s alright, Dean. I’m actually quite content with this.”

“I’m not.”

“And why might that be?”

“Because it’s my fault.”

Castiel frowned. He set his pencil down and closed his sketchbook. “You didn’t plan on me being an idiot and injuring myself. And it certainly didn’t happen by your own hands. So it’s not your fault.”

“...You gonna let me apologize or not?”

“Alright then,” Castiel sighed. “What else are you sorry for?”

“For getting your glasses screwed up,” Dean began, counting each apology on his fingers, “For wasting our time looking for them, hell, for nearly dropping you off the side of a cliff. I will admit that that one was a bit uncalled for…

“I guess I’m apologizing for the whole day so far. For freaking you out earlier, at the river and the waterfall. I just didn’t think you’d get so...worked up. I didn’t think it seemed like we were in that much trouble. And I certainly didn’t mean to make you think that I was friggin’ dead. To me, it’s normal, you know. I’ve been up that cliff and down that river dozens of times. I guess I just didn’t realize they can be kind of...daunting for someone who hasn’t.

“I just wanted you to have some fun before you left, you know? Some adventure. God knows you don’t get enough of it back home. You keep bees as a hobby, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Hey. I like beekeeping,” Castiel defended. “I think it’s fun.”

“Exactly,” Dean said, laughing.

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh, too. “I’m sorry as well. For yelling. And for punching you in the face. I was pretty upset, but that might’ve been a bit overboard.”

“No, I deserved that.”

They laughed again. It was a relief to hear an actual apology from Dean Winchester, but it was more of a relief to see the tensity in his nerves and the guilt in his conscience distill. He shouldn’t have to beat himself up over that stuff for too long.

“You don’t have to apologize for the whole day, Dean,” Castiel assured. “I am having fun. It’s just…I’d like it if we kept the life-threatening activities to a minimum, from now on?”

“Ah c’mon. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Up yours.”

“Whoa. Careful now.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel grinned. “I’ll be careful when you are. And that would include removing anymore dangerous plans from our agenda.”

“Alright, fine,” Dean complied in his mockingly petulant manner. “I _suppose_ that can be arranged.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. We’ll just sit on our asses and sing campfire songs the rest of the trip.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, and the rest of his laughter subsided.

“So…” Dean mumbled, waving a vague gesture between them. “We good?”

“We’re good.”

At that, Dean nodded affirmatively. “Good. Now.” He stood and pointed a thumb towards the ropeswing. “I think I still got a few more swings in me, then we can head back to camp. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Castiel picked up his pencil and reopened his sketchbook. Dean trotted over to the rope.

As he reeled back, Dean mentioned, “I’m still reachin’ for that ‘decent attempt’ score from you, by the way. So you better watch this time, because this is the one.”

“Oh, is this the one now?”

Right before he took off, running and chucking himself off the ledge, he shot Castiel a smirk. “The one of ones, baby.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until they’d gotten back in the tent that Castiel realized just how burnt his shoulders were. Because of course the sunblock washed off in the river. And of course he hadn’t thought about that until it was too late.

It was Dean who pointed it out. Apparently the filtered lighting let show just how red Castiel’s shoulders were, and Dean wasn’t able to hold back a sympathetic hiss once he noticed it. He so expertly prescribed a new coat of sunblock and a long sleeve shirt, just to be safe. It wasn’t so hot out anymore, so Castiel wasn’t against putting both of those things on his body. Dean went back outside to unpack the canoe. And was he sunburnt in any shape or form? No. Dean was perfectly unscathed, the lucky bastard.

Dean also suggested that he apply some sunblock to his nose and cheeks—hell, his entire face—because those had gotten a bit pink as well. Castiel used one of the side mirrors of the Impala to make sure he got every inch properly covered.

“It’s always my shoulders that get it worst, too,” Castiel whined as he took a seat at the table.

“So I’ve noticed,” Dean said, plopping down on the bench across from him. “Remember last month, at Benny’s grad party? You got burnt bad.”

“I remember.” Just thinking about it made Castiel’s skin itch.

“All I gotta say is, you need to get outside more.”

Once Dean placed two decks of cards on the table, Castiel knew he was in for a game of Racing Demon. He’d learned the game the first time he visited Dean’s house, just shortly after meeting, and they’d played it every so often ever since. During lunch time, at sleepovers, or simply whenever they got bored and had nothing else to do. Dean learned how to play from his father, who’d learned from his father, and so on. Part of the Winchester lineage, so it seemed.

Which was probably the greatest reason why Dean was able to smoke him each and every time they played.

“Tuck or standard?” Dean asked, tossing him the blue deck.

“I’m feeling good today, so tuck,” Castiel replied.

“Good choice.” Dean kept the red deck for himself. He was already shuffling before Castiel had even taken his deck out of the box. “We would’ve played it either way.”

“Oh, I figured. That’s partly why I picked it.”

“And because you’re feeling good.”

“Yes.”

“You’re still going to lose.”

“Most likely.” Castiel smirked. “But gloating before we’ve even started? Careful, Dean. With big-headedness like that, you might jinx yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean smirked back. “I’m feeling good today.”

Still grinning, Castiel rolled his eyes. Big-headed indeed.

Dean rifled his deck swiftly, the cards bending and cascading in a practiced whir. His movements were nearly robotic, because he’d done this millions of times before and not a card fell out of place because of it. The dexterity of his fingers as they flipped the deck and restarted the shuffle was inhuman. Castiel had seen him do it countless times before, but it never failed to amaze him. How effortless Dean made it look, how skilled his hands were. Castiel felt his chances at winning dwindle just from watching that alone.

Not to mention, his own preferred method of shuffling was woefully elementary. Castiel pouted as he laid out seven cards and began stacking the rest atop each one in no particular order. He hardly tried keeping count of how many cards went into each pile, knowing that he just would’ve lost track halfway through. Though he insisted he did it this way to keep from damaging the cards, they both knew that he couldn’t—for the life of him—shuffle cards like a regular human being.

They both had their hands set up soon enough, Castiel’s fanned-out nerts pile far neater than Dean’s. Castiel pushed his glasses up; he knew that once the game started, he wouldn’t have a second’s time to waste doing it later. His chances at winning were already slim, and the way his hand looked didn’t make that any better. All high numbers, mostly red. And of course two of his aces were trapped right in the middle of his nerts pile. That was just his luck with this game.

Dean was more than happy with how his cards turned out. “Ready when you are,” he said with a smirk.

Without another word, Castiel started working his way through his stock pile. Dean immediately had an ace ready to slap out in the middle of the table, and he did so with gusto. Another card shortly followed, but Castiel was too busy trying to find a place for his six of spades to look up. He doubted he’d have anything to put up yet, anyway. Glancing at his nerts pile, Castiel groaned. Each side was guarded by a king. It’d be a while till he got rid of any of those.

“What’s our wager this time?” Dean asked, surely demolishing and rebuilding his work piles.

“Mmm...what was it last time?”

“Loser has to convince Sam to put on a dress without letting him know why.”

“Oh right. How could I forget,” Castiel sighed. That’d been a trial. “Can’t repeat that one this time, now can we.”

“No we can’t. You never managed to convince him, by the way. That’s still a task you’re obliged to complete.”

“Where would we even get the dress?”

“Uh. I think by ‘we’ you mean ‘you,’ ” Dean said as he slapped down another card. “And you have sisters.”

“Do you have any idea how confused Sam was when I asked if he’d try on Hester’s dress?” Castiel asked rather irritably. He turned over the next three cards in his stock pile. Jack of diamonds came out on top. No use. “He was very confused.”

“And it was hilarious,” Dean recalled with a laugh. Two more shuffles and the perfect card surfaced, unlocking a long string of changes within his hand. Two, three, four more cards made its way to the shared piles. At least Castiel could rid of his seven of hearts then. He happily removed a king from the right side of his nerts pile and filled the vacant spot the seven left behind. That long string still not at its end, Dean continued rearranging his cards. “Okay. I’ve got a wager.”

“Alright, then shoot.”

Dean’s lips quirked up in a wicked grin. “Loser has to tell me their secret crush.”

Castiel nearly dropped his deck. “Dean, no.”

“Uh. Dean, yes.”

“For the last time, I don’t have a...” he mumbled, angling his face down at the table. His cards seemed to disappear into the pattern of the tablecloth. He could read them, but they didn’t make any sense. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean nagged. “We both know you’ve had one since junior year.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“And,” Dean went on, never breaking his focus from the game, “the fact that your face turns a certain shade of pink every time I bring it up? That’s just one of the many indicators that what you just said is a big fat lie. And there it is.”

“It is not. That’s just...my sunburn.”

“Bullshit.”

“Wrong card game, Dean,” Castiel said, because there was literally no other comeback his stupid brain could come up with. He could feel the heat bouncing off his cheeks, a telltale sign that he really was blushing. Damn. There really should be a remedy for that.

Castiel huffed. He couldn’t admit his feelings over a game of Racing Demon. It was far too important for that. If he ended up losing, then he’d just have to not tell Dean. No matter how stubborn and prodding he got about it. Yeah. Just don’t tell him. It’d be easy—

But wait. Knowing Dean, he was going to be very stubborn and very prodding about it. Not telling him anything would just make him suspicious. That was the last thing he needed. Oh! He could lie, couldn’t he? Surely there was some girl he was friends with enough to say that—

No, because if he lied, it’d be that much harder to tell him the truth later. And he really hated lying to Dean. Dean deserved the truth. He could give it to him—heck, he was planning on it this whole time—but he couldn’t like this.

“You tryin’ to lose?”

“Huh?” Castiel snapped out of his thoughts, only to discover that Dean had already rid of half his nerts pile. He looked down at his own.

He still had twelve cards to get rid of.

“We’re playing to a hundred and fifty points, right?” he asked, a sad sort of hope wringing inside of him.

Dean nodded, throwing a king onto a pile of clubs to finish it off. He shuffled through his stock pile rapidly, only ever stopping when he knew the card on top would be of use. “Unless you think you can’t make it that far.”

He really couldn’t. “Is there a deadline on this wager?”

“Yeah. Right after I win.”

Oh no. That effectively churned Castiel’s insides. “How about before we go home? By the end of this trip, I’ll spill my secrets.”

“Nope. Sorry. I get to cash in immediately.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Dean singsonged, happily setting down yet another card.

“Well, it looks as though you’re forgetting that we _both_ have to agree on the wager. If you truly are dying to know who I have a crush on, then fine. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you aaaall about it. Everything. But not until I _want_ to. Got it?”

For the first time since the game started, Dean stilled his hands. “Whoa,” he said, holding them up, “take it easy, man. Sheesh.”

Oh wow. When did Castiel stand up? “Sorry,” he blurted, falling back into his seat. He hastily picked up his cards. “So do we have an agreement?”

“Yeah,” Dean resumed playing, trying and failing to act casual. “You tell me, but only if you lose and when you want to.”

“Good. I’m glad we could work this out.”

Dean didn’t say another word, but he was back to his regular speed, moving and placing cards in that rapid-fire way. And Castiel was jittering. Panicking. He was fumbling and dropping cards because he hadn’t meant to get mad over it. It wasn’t Dean’s fault he didn’t know. Dean was just trying to have some fun. He shouldn’t have gotten so flustered over that.

Too embarrassed to think straight, Castiel muddled his way through the rest of the round. Which wasn’t a surprise, since that’s usually what he did anyway. Dean usually dragged out the duration of a round simply because he could playing against Castiel. But they both wanted that first round over with, so he ended it as soon as he could. Castiel could only let out a sigh of relief when Dean set down a card in finality and said, “Nerts.”

Not a word was exchanged as they gathered the shared piles and sorted them out. It hadn’t taken very long, Castiel only having put up a handful of cards.

“Thirty-seven,” Dean said after a quick count of his cards. “What’d you get?”

Castiel gave a pout. “Negative five.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Off to a good start, I see.” Dean got up to walk to the tent. “Got any paper I could borrow?”

“My sketchbook’s in my satchel.”

“You mean your man-purse.”

“Uh huh.” Castiel regrouped and reshuffled his cards as he waited for Dean to return.

So, negative five. Not the worst score he’s gotten in a round of Racing Demon. That didn’t make him feel any more confident about winning, mind you. Oh well. At least he could breathe about it now. With the wager as it was, he wasn’t really going to lose anything.

“These are new.”

Castiel turned to look over his shoulder, finding Dean nose-deep in his sketchbook. He made his way back to the table slowly, eyes studying the page like it held the secrets of the world. “New,” Dean continued, glancing up at Castiel, “and...interesting, to say the least.”

“They’re not finished,” Castiel defended, though he wasn’t sure which page Dean was looking at. About eighty-five percent of his drawings were left unfinished.

When Dean sat back down, he put the sketchbook flat on the table. It covered his sprawled deck of cards, give or take a few. Even with it upside-down from his position, Castiel recognized the drawings as the ones he’d made just a few hours ago. The ones he’d made of Dean.

“Oh,” he began, feeling he should explain, “well, you asked me to make a drawing of you. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to do a few studies first…”

“A few?” Dean questioned. “This is what you call a few? Five full pages of me?”

The way Dean framed that particular piece of evidence made it sound like Castiel had invaded some sense of his privacy. He’d apologize, but then again, it was Dean who decided to sneak a peek at his sketchbook. Even he knew it was against an artist’s wishes to do such a thing without permission. That being said, Castiel was just happy Dean had said five pages instead of the actual amount that his face covered. Because that would’ve meant he’d looked through the sketchbook even more, and that would’ve been all the more embarrassing.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Castiel muttered, more than tempted to steal the sketchbook from his very hands and run away with it.

“It’s not,” Dean stuttered, “Not at all, man. In fact I’m flattered. It’s just a bit...strange.”

“I wanted to capture your character, alright? And for someone as exuberant yet reserved as you are, it’s going to take a lot of practice for me to get that down.”

“...It’s creepy how much attention to pay to me, you know that?” Dean said, making Castiel roll his eyes. “I mean, you even got down the shape of the bruise you gave me. That takes some attention to detail. And I know you like to draw and everything, but uh...this right here,” he pointed to the sketchbook, “this is a prime example of that.”

“You are an interesting person, after all.” Castiel sighed, trying to sound like he hadn’t cared much for Dean’s statement there. “Why wouldn’t I pay such an amount of attention to you?”

“I just said why, because it’s creepy—”

“Gimme that.” Castiel went to grab his sketchbook, but Dean snatched it out of his reach just in time. “Dean. Just rip out a blank page and give it back.”

Instead of doing as he was politely asked, Dean held it up and away. “Well I’m curious now. How many other pages are covered in my face?”

“Not a whole lot,” Castiel begrudgingly lied, hoping Dean would just take his word for it. “Now hurry up. We have a game to finish.”

Lips pursed, Dean glanced back and forth between Castiel and his sketchbook, looking like he was about to take off with it. Then like the good little friend he was, he set the book down and turned to the first blank page, keeping his suspicious eyes locked on Castiel the entire time. Figuring he wouldn’t have one, Castiel dug through his coat’s pocket and handed him a pen. A quiet “thanks” escaped Dean’s mouth as he wrote down their names and scores.

“Thirty-seven to negative five,” he announced. He looked Castiel in the eye. “You just might win this one.”

“Oh shut up.”

Dean laughed and set the sketchbook aside. “You might as well tell me who it is now.”

“Sorry. Not gonna happen.”

“Well, don’t lose and you won’t have to.” He began shuffling for round two. “Good luck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”

“Dean.”

“I bet it’s Charlie. But you know she’s into chicks, right?”

“ _Dean_.”

They were on what seemed to be their last round of Racing Demon, Dean close enough to one-hundred and fifty points that if he so much as sneezed he’d win. He guessed just about every girl Castiel had ever made contact with at this point, all to which Castiel honestly said “no.” He must’ve known that actively guessing his crush messed him up; every time another name was said, Castiel either dropped a card or lost his train of thought. It was unfairly obvious at this point, and Dean had been shamelessly exploiting the hell out of this weakness.

Castiel had three cards to get rid off. Three. It was the closest he’d ever been to beating Dean in a round. He was still gonna be toast once the round ended, winner or no, but he was excited nonetheless. Dean was scrambling to get rid of his cards with a bit more haste than usual. He was just behind Castiel, with four left in his nerts pile—

No, wait. Make that three. Okay, now they were tied.

“Well it can’t be Meg,” Dean thought aloud, taking a second’s glance to see how that affected Castiel. It managed to make him stumble as he set down a seven. Smirking, Dean immediately slapped an eight atop it. “You know, since you already dated her. And that went over just as horribly as any of us could’ve expected. Then there’s April, but she royally screwed you over. So it can’t be her either.”

Numbers! He could focus on numbers if he wanted to. And suits. Yeah. Numbers and suits. “Surely you’re only bringing that up because you’re getting desperate.” Castiel aimed his words carefully. “You’re very proud of your winning streak, and you wouldn’t want that ruined.”

“Yeah,” Dean admitted lightly. “And because it’s true.”

Castiel scoffed. “Oh, like your dating record is any better.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Bitch.”

“Assbutt.”

Yeah. They were definitely nearing the end.

Castiel hurriedly shuffled through his stock pile. A red ten surfaced at last and he threw it on a jack. God, about time. Now he could finally get rid of that stupid nine of spades that’d been blocking an ace the entire round. He happily slapped the ace down in the middle of the table, flashing Dean a devilish grin. Just one card left.

It was the queen of hearts. He scoured the table for a place to get rid of it, finding one potential stack of hearts. It was only up to nine, and the ten he could’ve placed atop was now sitting under that nine of spades. So that was no longer an option, unless he wanted to wait for another place to put that nine to show up. His best option was to work out an empty space in his work piles. He kept an eye on the hearts, just in case.

“You’re getting close,” Dean said, eyes and hands busy as he worked through his own deck. “Too bad you’re still over a hundred points behind me.”

“That no longer matters. I win this round, I make history.”

“So not happening.”

“Prove it.”

“Cas,” Dean began, ridding his nerts pile of yet another card. “I’ll friggin’ _kiss_ you if you win this round.”

“What.” His hands immediately died. He nearly dropped each and every card out of his hold. Bewildered by this development, he all but froze. They shot meaningless banter back and forth all the time while playing this game, but that...

That was unexpected.

Dean continued shuffling through his cards normal as ever, clearly basking in the victory that was now surely his. Everything else just sort of disappeared for Castiel, the thought of kissing Dean—no, Dean kissing _him_ —infiltrating his crumbling mind. “Is…” he managed, trying and failing to clear that image out of his head. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Castiel gulped. He couldn’t have been serious. That was just his way of saying, “I know you’re not going to win, and I’m going to make wild propositions just to prove it.” That had to be it.

But at this rate, he’d do his damndest to test it.

Castiel snapped out of his head just in time to see Dean put out a jack of hearts. Ah ha! He could do it. He could win right then and there.

Castiel scurried to grab the queen. He was going to win. Heart pounding, he stood and slapped the card down, opening his mouth to say—

“Nerts! Ha!”

But Dean said it. Not him.

Castiel blinked. “What…” He looked down. Just beneath his hand was Dean’s, pinching an identical queen of hearts.

“I win.”

“Damn it!!”

Dean laughed. “You know you could’ve tucked that card behind your jack the whole time, right?”

“What—” Castiel’s eyes drifted towards his work piles. He begrudgingly spotted the jack Dean was talking about. The one he put the ten of hearts over. “Damn it! Seriously? How in the hell did I miss that??”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad. There’s always next time.”

“Just once,” Castiel sighed, falling back on his seat. “Just once I’d like to win.”

“You’ll get your chance.”

“That _was_ my chance…”

Dean smirked like the smug gloater he was. “C’mon, Cas,” he coaxed, reaching across the table to muss up his hair, “help me sort the cards. Then you can whine like a little bitch all you want.”

“…Fine.” Castiel made a face, but did what he was told. After counting his cards, he discovered that he actually got a positive score this time. “I got eleven. You?”

Dean wrote that down. “Twenty-five. Which gives me a grand total of...well son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“How many freckles did you say I had again?”

Castiel frowned. “One-hundred sixty-seven. Why?”

Dean flipped the paper around and shoved it in Castiel’s direction. At the bottom of a long stream of scores and addition problems were their totals. Castiel winced as he saw that he ended with a whooping forty-three points. And Dean?

 _167_.

“What a coincidence,” Castiel mused flatly.

“Looks like you got some secret-spilling to do.”

“Figured as much, thanks.”

“Was I right about Charlie?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Then who could it be?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Castiel teased, childishly crossing his arms. “Not yet anyway.”

“Why not? What difference does it make?”

“More than you’d think.”

“Just tell me who it is.”

“It’s no one you’d think of.”

“Oh,” Dean mumbled thoughtfully. “Is it someone from church again?”

“No.”

“Some businessman’s kid?”

“Definitely not.”

“Do I know this mystery girl?”

Castiel began putting his deck back in its box. “That, my dear friend, is a question I am unable to answer.”

“Dude. If it’s someone I don’t know, then you gotta introduce me to her before you leave.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Dean smacked the table in an “ah-ha!” sort of manner. “So it _is_ someone I don’t know.”

“No, Dean. It’s quite the opposite, in fact—”

Well, fuckity duck. He shouldn’t have said that at all.

Dean stilled, and Castiel could feel his stare as he fumbled with the cards.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Castiel grumbled. Some of his cards weren’t fitting in the box so nicely. “It means, it’s someone you should know quite well. Or so I hope.”

“Oh no,” Dean groaned. “It’s not one of my ex’s, is it?”

Oh good God. So over this guessing game, Castiel waved a hand and blurted, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“You’re joking.”

“Oh, am I?” he asked innocently as he struggled against the deck. “These stupid—ugh!” Getting too impatient, he tossed the box of cards at Dean. “Can you put those in for me? Please.”

“It’s a lot easier once you try fitting in only a few at a time,” Dean explained. He had the cards fit all snug and the box closed tight within seconds.

Well, good for Dean.

“Give me your lighter. I want to start the fire.”

Dean snickered. “Hold your horses, cub scout. I’ll start the fire.”

“Can I at least put in the firewood?”

“Does that involve setting things on fire?”

“No?”

“Then yes,” Dean smiled. “You may put the firewood in the fire pit.”

“Thanks—” Castiel stood to do just that, but then an arm was stuck in his way.

“Hold on a minute.” Dean gave him a serious, thoughtful look. He managed to hold it a few seconds, all before it broke into a mischievous grin. “Is it a guy?”

Castiel frowned. “Is what a g—”

Oh. Well, shit.

“Um…” Castiel scratched his head, like his fingers were digging for the right thing to say.

“I mean,” Dean shrugged, “you said no to every girl I could think of. And you certainly haven’t had a girlfriend in a while. What, was Meg really so bad that she scared you into another sexuality?”

“No.”

“Hey. If that is the case, then I’m not gonna judge.”

“That is _not_ the case.”

“You always were a bit on the feminine side—”

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I swear, I will. Kill you.”

“And I’d love to see you try, really,” Dean challenged, and that stupid grin on his face made it beyond tempting. “Just don’t break a nail.”

“Whatever. Just get your arm out of my way. Before I rip it off.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean relented and did as he was told. “No need to get so worked up, man. I was just kidding.”

“I know you were kidding, Dean.” Hiding any dejection, Castiel walked past their camping chairs and over to the piles of firewood. He bent over and picked up a sizeable lump. “And that’s where the problem lies...”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Sighing, Castiel dropped the firewood into the pit. They went on in silence as Castiel moved a few more, Dean doing...whatever Deans do. Castiel hadn’t bothered to check. He was too busy staving off any mortification that came with Dean’s little assumption there. Kidding or not, the fact that Castiel did have feelings for a guy—for Dean—still stood. And Castiel didn’t know what to be more concerned about: Dean’s obvious inability to handle such an idea seriously, or that Dean was even considering it a possibility. There was nothing he could do about the former, so Castiel supposed it’d be pointless to worry over that. And the latter? Well. Dean was about to find out the truth within the next few days, anyway. Maybe it was better to have the idea planted in his head beforehand. That way, it wouldn’t be such a complete shock when he—

“Damn it,” Castiel hissed. He’d felt a small but sharp sting on his fingertip as he’d dropped in one last piece of firewood. He instinctively brought it to his lips. “Splinter,” he mumbled, when he caught Dean shooting a glance.

“Really? Lemme see,” Dean said, waving Castiel over. He turned to straddle the picnic bench, so Castiel sat down to do the same, mirroring Dean’s posture. Holding out his palm, Castiel tried pressing the splinter out.

“Don’t do that,” Dean mumbled, slapping Castiel’s hand away. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Oh. Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize to me, man. You’re the one that’s gotta live with it.”

Dean proceeded to lift Castiel’s afflicted hand closer to get a better look. He tilted it this way and that, inspecting the splinter from every angle he could. From that, he was able to make a proper diagnosis. “Well, good news is it just skimmed you. Shouldn’t be too hard to get out.”

“And the bad news?”

“There is none,” Dean said, smiling up at him. Then he stood. After a trip to the car, he came back with two band aids and a roll of athletic tape. “I don’t have any tweezers or nothin’, but this should do it.”

Ripping off a piece of tape, Dean reclaimed his spot on the bench and took Castiel’s hand again. Castiel trusted he knew what he was doing, so he let Dean press the tape over his splinter. He gently rubbed a finger over it three times, asking, “Does that hurt?”

“Not really,” Castiel replied, though there was a mild sting. He was more concerned with the fact that Dean was _holding his freaking hand._ Sure, it was out of medical attention more than anything, but Castiel still had to resist the urge to hold Dean’s back. To curl his fingers around and refuse to let go.

It didn’t help that Dean kept brushing the back of his hand, too. And the worst part was that he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was most likely a habit. A mere gesture of comfort he performed on Sam when removing his splinters as kids, or something. It wasn’t affectionate. Just...assuaging.

Dean began lifting the tape from his finger, and slowly but surely, it actually pulled the damn splinter out. “Ta da,” he singsonged, crumpling the tape and tossing it onto the table.

“You wizard,” Castiel deadpanned, ready to reclaim possession of his own hand.

But Dean wasn’t done. “Hang on,” he mumbled as he lightly pinched Castiel’s wound. He didn’t stop, even when the blood started dribbling out.

“What the hell are you—”

“Would you quit fidgeting?” Dean interrupted. “I’m tryin’ to prevent an infection.”

Castiel pouted, but he did as he was told. That earned a half-assed “thank you” from Dean.

“Does it feel like there’s anything else stuck in there?”

“No.”

“Good,” Dean said, wiping the blood with a napkin he found lying on the table. Then he handed over the band aids. “Now. That’ll be five hundred dollars.”

“For a splinter removal? Go to hell.”

Dean laughed, a sarcastic “You’re welcome,” leaving his mouth before he stood up. Castiel muttered a sour thanks as he put on the bandaids. He was glad Dean had given him two; he somehow managed to screw up wrapping the first one around, effectively ruining its stickiness for all eternity. Meanwhile, Dean threw the crumpled tape and napkin into the fire pit and jaunted his way to the cooler. After tossing a bottle of water Castiel’s way, he set a bag of beef patties and a head of lettuce out on the table. “Hope you’re hungry for burgers.”

Castiel hummed in response. “Always,” he said, his stomach already grumbling at the thought. It may have been a bit early for dinner, but he didn’t mind. Dean cooked the best burgers, hands down.

Dean asked that he take out the rest of the ingredients while he gathered some flint to start the fire. Once that was going, Castiel had to resist the urge to also take out the supplies for s’mores. Dean promised he’d have a few with him later, long as he waited until after dinner. And that was enough to stave off his sugary cravings for the time being.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and they stuffed themselves silly. As they moved on from burgers to s’mores, however, their stomachs already full and ready to burst, neither felt any regret. The day had been a busy one, and Castiel figured they deserved an all-you-can-eat dinner after all that hiking and swimming and being reckless idiots. As for Dean, well, it was just normal for him to eat so much.

Though Castiel argued his hands were too sticky with s’more residue, Dean still let him try out his guitar once he brought it out again. It was difficult to form any sense of a good chord with one finger wrapped in two band aids, but Dean called that a sorry excuse more than anything. He wasn’t letting Castiel hand the guitar over until he learned a full song, and that was final. It was frustrating, it was difficult, and Dean’s teasing at his complete lack of guitar-playing skills hadn’t helped in the slightest. But if Castiel had any motivation to fulfill the challenge, it was to prove Dean that this “fragile-baby-cello-player” could in fact play guitar, too. Dean requested that on top of everything else, he might as well sing the lyrics. Having enough trouble with the guitar alone, Castiel just told him to go to hell or sing them himself. Dean gladly chose the latter.

By the time that trainwreck had finally come and gone, Castiel’s fingers hurt more than they had with the splinter in one of them. After his first and only successful run-through of “Free Bird” (of course Dean had to teach him one of the longest songs he knew), Castiel happily passed the guitar on over and said, “Now you play that long-ass solo.”

So Dean played it. And it absolutely floored Castiel’s crash course version to merciless death. Castiel hadn’t minded at all, really, it only made him look like a talentless buffoon. He supposed Dean handed the guitar over for that very reason in the first place.

Having had enough of Dean’s innate need to one-up him, Castiel got up and started towards the cooler. “We have any more bottled water left?”

“Sure, if you wanna be boring.”

“Or healthy.” After a grabbing a bottle for himself, Castiel offered one to Dean.

“Like I said man,” he shrugged, pointedly gesturing towards the bottle in Castiel’s hand, “boring.”

Castiel squinted his eyes. He dropped the bottle he was offering back into the cooler. “This is your way of making fun of me for talking you out of bringing alcohol, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Dean admitted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just be glad I got you water and not a bunch of kiddy juice boxes instead. Though I’m sure you would’ve loved that just as much. And it would’ve been pretty damn funny, now that I think about it.”

With every right to, Castiel rolled his eyes. “We are underage, and you are a surly drunk. Therefore, I do not regret my decision. So I must ask you as nicely as humanly possible, Dean: please shut your fucking mouth.”

That got Dean to laugh. “Ah c’mon, Cas. Lighten up, drink your water.”

Once he finally had enough of poking fun at Castiel, Dean started to play a calming tune to welcome the settling night. The first star of the evening came out, the fireflies glowing shortly after. Bundled in a puffy blanket he stole from the car, Castiel drank in the heat of the fire, the warmth of the music, and the freshness of the open air. He watched the sky shift colors and fill with tiny dots, whether it be a star or firefly or spark from the fire. Every now and then he’d sneak a glance Dean’s way, just to be sure it wasn’t some angel by his side gently singing a melody and strumming a tune.

The longer the night went on like this, the harder it was not to close the distance between them and kiss Dean’s freckled cheeks into oblivion. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, Castiel compromised in the only way he knew how. He slowly leaned his head sideways, until it rested entirely on the crook of Dean’s shoulder. Until he could feel Dean’s voice humming through his ear. Until his entire side leant against Dean and his guitar.

And as far as he could tell, Dean was just fine with that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Cas.”

“Hmm?”

“...Get off me.”

Okay, Dean was _not_ fine with that.

“Sorry,” Castiel hastily apologized, sitting upright. “I just...uh. I got tired.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

The act was simple, merely resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, but it felt so perfect and snug. And the gentle rock Dean conducted as he swayed to the beat of his guitar was almost hypnotic. Though his nerves were running in circles now, that was the most relaxed Castiel had felt in a long, long time.

But of course, it was too good to last. It was bound to creep Dean out sooner than later, and Castiel had pushed his luck.

With the illusion now broken, Castiel sighed. He wanted to admit how much of an accident it wasn’t. How nice it felt to be so close. That he lied about being tired. But he couldn’t. Instead, he bit his tongue and buried his reddening face in his blanket.

Because those were the last things Dean wanted to hear.

“Shit man, guess you really are tired,” Dean chuckled, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. Castiel groaned in response. He still loved how it felt to have Dean mess up his hair, and that only made everything so much worse. “I’ll stomp out the coals. You go get ready for bed, okay?”

Castiel’s throat tightened around a protest, strangling any will he had left to chance an admission of truth, until there was none at all. “Okay,” he managed with a nod, and Dean’s presence at his side drifted elsewhere. Left to his own devices, Castiel had nowhere to go but the tent.

He left the door unzipped for Dean, once he was in. He proceeded to unwrap the blanket from his body and throw it over his sleeping bag like the petulant child he was. Then he blindly dug through his knapsack until he could grab what felt like his toothbrush and toothpaste. He stepped back outside to get some water and brush his teeth. Dean joined him a minute later, giving an awkward “hi” as they stood in front of a bush and repeatedly spit their minty saliva onto it like cavemen.

Castiel was the first to get back in the tent. He sat on the corner of the air mattress as he changed, the roof of the tent uncomfortably low to stand under. After placing his glasses in the netted pocket, he crawled under his blanket and into his sleeping bag. He nuzzled his pillow a moment. He glowered at the empty spot next to him, where Dean was supposedly going to sleep. He studied the way their sleeping bags crumpled at the sides from being so pressed up against one another; the way Dean’s plethora of pillows overflowed and fell off the edges. How much room there was in the tent aside from the mattress; how logical it would be for one of them to take the spot on the ground. How smushed together they would be otherwise.

Great. This was going to be just great.

“I had a couple cots I could’ve brought, but they’re way less comfy than that thing. And there were two air mattresses at one point, but Sam got smart and set his up on a sharp rock last time.” Dean stepped into the tent. Turning to zip the door closed, he continued, “But I now realize just how damn small it is. So. Uh...if you have a problem with, you know,” he waved a vague gesture at the mattress, “it wouldn’t be that big’a deal if I had to sleep on the ground. You can have the mattress to yourself, if you want.”

“Well. I can honestly say that I’d only have a problem with it if you did,” Castiel mumbled, trying not to sound too disappointed. Dean obviously had a problem with it, otherwise he wouldn’t be mentioning it. “But if only one of us is gonna to use it, then it should be you. It’s your mattress, after all, you set it up and everything. I wouldn’t feel right taking it from you.”

“No, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the ground again. I saw how much it hurt your neck this morning.”

“My neck is fine.”

“That’s because it’s on a cushy air mattress.” For privacy’s sake, Castiel turned to the wall as Dean started changing. “I was the one responsible for bringing this stuff anyway. And besides, you’re already settled in. So it’s fine. I’ll take the ground.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, “if we’re both going to be stubborn asses about this, then we might as well be stubborn asses together and both take the ground.”

That got him to shut up a minute. Dean finished changing, and when Castiel expected him to start removing his things from the mattress, a heavy weight plopped down behind him instead. He dared look over his shoulder, finding Dean settling in just beside him.

“You’re right,” he explained, crossing his arms behind his head. “Stubborn asses together. Plus, I did spend a good fifteen minutes pumping this thing up. It’d be just plain unacceptable if that went to waste.”

Rather dumbfounded by his complacent solution to their stalemate, Castiel simply rolled onto his back as an act of truce and resisted the urge to roll any further. He let out a puff of air.

The crickets chirping outside were so suiting in the absence of a conversation that it reached the point of comical. Dean, of course, didn’t seem to pay it any mind. He was too calm, in fact, and that made Castiel all the more anxious. Never had he felt so close, yet so far from Dean...

Really, how on God’s Green Earth did Castiel think he’d be able to handle this?

Forever the lucky one, Dean was able to pass out within minutes. He’d turned onto his belly, his head facing the opposite direction of Castiel—smart move on his part, for sure. His breaths slowed and gave way to mild snoring as he drifted asleep. Maybe Castiel was actually getting tired himself, or it was the fact that Dean was no longer conscious that made him feel a bit less uneasy about the whole thing. Either way, he couldn’t for the life of him look at anything except Dean. His eyes fought through the darkness and latched onto the back of Dean’s head. Onto his bare neck and jaw. Onto his shoulder as it rose and fell with each breath he took in and set free. The same shoulder he’d just rested his head on.

Recalling that feeling, that undeniable harmony they’d felt as they sat in front of the fire together, it enabled Castiel to feel at ease once again. It may not’ve been romantic or lovey-dovey, or whatever he wanted to call it, but something had definitely been there between them. And it was there now, keeping them connected even as Dean was lost in the world of dreams. As long as Castiel focused on that feeling, he knew he’d make it through the night.

Sleep came easily then. It wasn’t something he had to fight off or fight for. It came with the peace of mind in knowing Dean was always with him, even when he wasn’t. It made their fast-approaching separation a bit more bearable, too. Batting his eyes closed, Castiel let out a much needed sigh of relief, and—

Dean moved. He tossed and turned enough to shoo the fixating embrace of sleep away. Opening his eyes, Castiel was glad he’d become so mellowed out.

He probably would’ve flipped the hell out otherwise, with Dean’s face so tantalizingly close to his own.

Oh, now this was the greatest waste of divine intervention, if Castiel did say so himself. He could feel Dean’s breath skip across his skin, he could smell the minty freshness his toothpaste had left behind. Halting any and all breaths of his own, Castiel chanced a look at Dean’s lips. And that was just about the dumbest thing he could’ve done. They were pursed open, ever so slightly puckered and _God damn it, that was really unfair. So very, extremely, rudely unfair._

Before he wound up committing something he’d wildly regret, Castiel immediately turned away and pledged to stay turned away. He’d already invaded Dean’s personal space once for the night, and he wasn’t about to do it again to an even higher degree. Nope. No way, no how, no thank you. And just in case his arms gained a mind of their own in the middle of the night and decided they belonged around Dean, Castiel grabbed his pillow, wrapping himself tightly around that instead. Long as he kept like this, he should make it through the night just fine.

After the longest minute of his life passed, Castiel sighed. So much for going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 2B ST:  
> We Are The Tide - Blind Pilot  
> Innocent Bones - Iron & Wine  
> No Ceiling - Eddie Vedder  
> Bloom - The Paper Kites  
> Can't Help Falling in Love (Cover) - Jesse Daniel Smith  
> Each Coming Night - Iron & Wine
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	5. Day 3A - Shooting Stars Grant Wishes!

Shining through the clouds and trees, the sun tapped lightly on Castiel’s eyelids, coaxing him out of any last-minute dreams. It pulled him into a hazy, semi-conscious state. Though pleasant, he buried his eyes in his pillow, away from the beams glistening in through the netted window Dean had left open. He wasn’t ready to give up his dreams just yet, so he held on a minute longer.

The sun had risen gently, tranquil in its awakening of the world. Birds chirped and sang their morning tunes, snug in the bushes and trees. A light breeze orchestrated the constant lapping of the lake, the rustling of the leaves. Every now and then a dog would bark in the distance, but it wasn’t enough to disturb the peace. The air felt fresh as the day, holding the promise of relaxation and sun.  If ever there was such a thing as Heaven on Earth, this was it.

Castiel hummed. He could get used to a morning like this.

Yawning, Castiel finally gave in and let his sleepy mind be brought into consciousness. And my god, was he glad Dean convinced him to stay on the mattress. This was so much more comfy than sleeping on the ground. He could’ve spent the night floating on a cloud, for all he could tell. The tent provided an extra layer of comfort, holding in the warmth while letting in the fresh air. Everything had a cozy tint of orange to it, thanks to the color of the walls. The smell of last night’s fire was still trapped in his blanket. Castiel happily drank it in.

After one good stretch, he smacked his lips and nuzzled his face in his pillow like a cat. Rubbing his cheek and nose across the fabric, he reasserted his hold. It was soothing, feeling its gentle rise and fall; listening in on its wispy breaths and steady heartbeat—

Wait. That was strange; last he checked, pillows didn’t need to breathe. Let alone have a heartbeat...

Castiel’s eyes popped wide open. Because that was not his pillow he was hugging and snuggling and holding tight.

That was Dean.

Castiel tensed. A part of him suspected this was the inevitable result of sleeping so close to Dean Winchester. He was only kidding himself, after all, thinking he wouldn’t wind up hugging the crap out of his best friend as they slept. Of course his stupid arms had to grow a mind of their own here.

However, the larger, much more panicky part of himself was saying that his was all wrong. That he should move away now. This wasn’t a part of the plan, this went directly against the plan. He was supposed to wake up with an armful of pillow, not an armful of Dean. Dean, the clueless sonofabitch, trusted that he would keep his distance. And Castiel failed to hold up his end of the deal.

Problem was? He couldn’t let go.

Castiel tried. Believe him, he tried. His heart jumped from his chest and his nerves chanted that he let go. Something, anything, everything was telling him to move. But he just couldn’t.

As much as it was a concern, the thought of Dean waking up and catching him wasn’t what kept Castiel immobile. It was the sneaking sensation that this wasn’t in fact wrong, but….right. That his arm was meant to wrap around Dean’s waist as such; that they fit together too perfectly for it to be anything but right; that something so comforting, so loving was what they were supposed to feel. It was an approaching feeling, settling in over his bustled nerves and racing heart. Like a tide coming in to smooth over the sand. Butterflies still rustled in his tummy, but they were good butterflies now. Giddy ones. Happy ones.

Not retreat or shame or panic, but acceptance. Love. That was the feeling that persevered.

Castiel relaxed. He let out a sigh easily enough, matching his breaths with Dean’s without so much as a conscious thought. Dean’s chest rose and fell, slowly rocking Castiel’s head as he listened for a heartbeat. It was hidden behind breathy snores, but after closing his eyes, Castiel could detect a thump-thumping. Grinning like the helpless idiot he was, Castiel reveled in Dean’s warmth, in this forbidden closeness. It was already too late anyway. The moment he’d let go of his pillow and held onto Dean instead, he’d been lost. It’s not like he wanted to let go, anyway. Not even the sheer forces of nature could pull him out of this embrace.

What made that even worse (or better, depending on your perspective here) was the fact that Dean had an arm around him, too. He wasn’t holding tight by any means, but enough to make Castiel’s heart jump with what he dreadfully suspected was false hope.  Dean’s arm draped over his shoulder, wrapped behind his back—his hand rested on his freaking hip. Well then, Castiel thought. If Dean were to wake up right then and there, at least he’d have some of his own explaining to do as well.

Moments away from unconsciousness, Castiel hummed. He had to tell himself not to start tracing circles across Dean’s shirt. Because that’d be dumb. That’s what lovestruck idiots did, and he certainly wasn’t one, thank you very much. He was very much contained and composed on the matter. So of course, he settled on fiddling with a loose thread at Dean’s side instead. That was much more mature, and a lot less likely to wake him up.

Castiel had wrapped and unraveled the thread around his finger three times, when Dean stirred beneath him. He froze. Dean’s chest rose with an awakening yawn, and there was nothing Castiel could do to stop his nerves from tumbling free again. The hand resting on his hip dragged out of place, and Castiel was suddenly very alone on this “holding onto each other tight” thing. The sound of Dean smacking his lips was the final indication that he’d woken up.

Well. This was going to be awkward. Perfect.

An agonizing stretch of silence passed. Not the wind or lake or leaves, not a single thing made a sound as the world came to a screeching halt and crumbled right on top of him. Everything was watching, waiting for him to screw up even more than he already had. Every living soul on the planet backed the glare he felt digging a hole through his head. And they were rooting against him, in their complete and utter, torturous silence.

Then Dean cleared his throat. “...Cas,” he mumbled at last.

And what in the hell was he supposed to do about that?? Look Dean square in the eye, bat his lashes and say, “Yes, my dear?” Of-freaking-course not. If Dean knew he’d been awake, well, that’d create all sorts of suspicion and tension neither of them needed. So...he should just pretend that he was the one asleep the whole time. Yeah. That’s what he was going to do, and he was sticking to it.

Dean let out an annoyed sigh and called his name again. There was an urgency to his voice, as if Castiel didn’t move right this second, Dean was going to kill him dead. But Castiel held still as a rock, determined to convince him he was still asleep. Determined to lie to him. Right to his pretty, freckled face.

“Cas,” Dean groaned. He was at the end of his rope for sure. Determination snapped into guilt, and suddenly Castiel felt like becoming one with his sleeping bag as the human burrito and rolling away, spurting apologies until his mouth fell off. Before he could do much about it, Castiel felt a harsh _thunk_ —an unforgiving finger flicked the back of his head.

Castiel winced. Caving in, he turned to look at Dean and gave his best droopy-eyed, sleep-ridden look.

Dean was having none of it. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, staring him down disapprovingly. Feigning innocence, Castiel only widened his eyes in question. Rolling his own, Dean motioned towards Castiel’s extremely conspicuous hold on him. “Personal space?”

And as if realizing it for the first time, Castiel ripped his arm from Dean’s waist and removed his head from his chest. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, turning away. “I didn’t realize I was—I mean, I was asleep. I couldn’t have controlled what I was...you know. Doing...”

“Yeah whatever,” Dean muttered, letting out a tired breath. “Next time I have to wake up smellin’ your damn hair, I’m throwin’ you in the lake. Just so you know.”

“Noted,” Castiel replied hastily. He couldn’t help but curl in on himself and melt into a puddle of goo. _You’ve done it again,_ he thought to himself. _You’ve managed to creep Dean out twice within the span of twenty-four hours. Stellar work._

It wasn’t fair. Hiding his feelings left a hole in his chest too empty to fill. Showing the slightest bit of them burned out his nerves. Dean never seemed to appreciate either. There was no winning here. He couldn’t possibly know what Dean was thinking, but Castiel knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. He’d have to tell Dean how he felt—with words—and soon. Otherwise he might as well die from the embarrassment.

But as for now, Dean seemed to prefer an absolute lack of contact. Knowing it was his fault, Castiel let slip another “I’m sorry” before turning completely away.

“Oh, you’re going to be.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I already am sorr— _Dean!”_

Out of nowhere, all hundred-seventy pounds of Dean straight up bodyslammed him. Castiel yelped as the last bit of air rushed out of his lungs, scrambling to figure out what the hell just happened. Because what the hell! Next thing he knew, Dean was pinning him down. His arm was pretzeled behind his neck, and Dean already had him flat as a pancake.

“What the hell is your problem?” Castiel spat, pathetically waving a hand in attempt to free himself of Dean’s hold.

Dean just laughed. “Look at us Cas, we’re wrestling in bed!”

“Oh shut up.”

“Not until you apologize,” Dean said easily enough, driving his chest into Castiel’s helpless ribs, “and mean it.”

“What part of ‘I’m sorry’ don’t you understand?”

“The part where you didn’t mean it.”

“What?” Frowning, Castiel looked away and latched onto Dean’s wrist. He’d watched enough of Dean’s wrestling practices to at least attempt escape from a half nelson hold. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense.”

“And you’re a dense idiot.” Castiel struggled a moment more, but Dean wasn’t three-time state champ for nothing. It was no surprise Dean had him flipped on his back within seconds. There was no escaping this now. “Goddamn it...get off me!”

“Apologize.”

“I already did.”

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“Never.”

Dean smirked. “You asked for it.”

Before Castiel could get a word in edgewise, Dean drove his hands into his sides. And Castiel gasped. He writhed in place, any and all movements involuntary as Dean tickled the living crap out of him. “Dean!”

“Cas,” Dean whined back in a mocking tone.

“You are so dead,” Castiel managed. Sparks flew through his nerves, rendering him utterly breathless. Every punch he meant to throw was expertly deflected. Every punch he _hadn’t_ meant to throw was used against him. To his luck, Dean now held both his arms in place as his free hand crawled up his sides like some sort of demon hellbent on a ticklefest. Any remaining control of his limbs was quickly dissipating. Not like he could do much otherwise, being stuck in a sleeping bag and all.

“I’m dead?” Dean questioned, quite unphased by the commotion between them. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but seems to me you’re the one unable to breathe right now. Are you sure I’m the one who’s dead here?”

Castiel had a witty enough comeback for that (trust him), but losing the ability to breathe also meant losing the ability to speak. He couldn’t even glare at the bastard. All he could do was yell incoherently as his nerves kicked into an emergency mode that consisted of uncontrollable flailing—and more yelling. Lots more yelling. It was a pretty lousy backup system, he had to admit. Ineffective, to say the least.

“This is your last chance,” Dean warned over the chaos, “Apologize for your wrongdoings now, or I go in for the kill.”

“What kill?”

Dean took his hand from Castiel’s side, an immediate relief. But that only lasted a second, as he hovered just inches from Castiel’s neck. Grinning sickly, Dean nodded. “ _The_ kill.”

Oh god. Not the neck. Anything but the neck. “Dean, don’t you fucking dare—”

“Oh,” he dipped his hand closer, “I dare.”

“Wait! Wait!” Castiel pleaded at the last possible second. If there was one thing Castiel should’ve kept a secret, it was how damn ticklish his neck was. That was most truly his ultimate weakness. “I strongly advise you against this decision. Remember last time? The second your fingers reached my neck, your ass was on the ground and I went flying ten feet across the room. The reaction was nuclear. Not a single soul in gym class thought it was as funny as you did. Definitely not worth it.”

Dean pretended to weigh that judgement. “True. But it’s just you and me here. I’ve got you pinned down this time around. It should be interesting to see how this turns out.”

“You’ll go straight through the ceiling. Promise.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Dean, no! DEAN!”

There wasn’t a thing Castiel could do as Dean dropped his hand onto his neck. There wasn’t a thing he could do after the fact either, when both their bodies were suddenly clear across the other end of the tent.

Of course, Dean still managed to come out on top. Laughing hysterically, he gathered his bearings and sat upright. He grinned down at Castiel and said, “Man, you should’ve seen your face.”

And Castiel groaned. Though his arms were free now, he hadn’t the energy to wipe that smirk right off Dean’s stupid face. He could only thank his lucky stars that he was finally able to breathe after all that commotion. Or that he still had a voice after screaming like that. No doubt any remaining sleepers had woken up from that. And how the hell did he manage to kick free of his sleeping bag? It was even half-stuck to the wall, caught on one of the zippers.

Eyes closed, Castiel grumbled “I hate you,” between breaths. “You are officially the worst.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Dean coaxed, poking a finger at his chest.

Castiel smacked it away. “No, I seriously hate you right now. Do everyone a favor and go to hell. Please.”

Dean tilted his head and put on the fakest pout he could muster. “Look at you, all upset.”

“Shut up.”

As if to spite him, Dean maintained his petulant teasing. He laughed off any efforts Castiel made to stop him. “You know,” Dean continued, inching his face closer, “you get real cute when you’re this mad.”

“Wha—I said shut up!!”

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. “Good morning to you too,” he snickered, finally crawling off of Castiel. For someone who respected their personal space, Dean sure didn’t seem to care that he wound up straddling him.

And to be completely honest with himself here, Castiel didn’t mind so much either.

“Oooh, it’s nice out.” Dean glanced out the window, stretching as he stood and yawned. “Better put on more sunscreen, huh?”

Castiel gave a half-assed thumbs up, and that seemed adequate enough for Dean. He nodded back, unzipped the door, then stepped out of the tent. Castiel still laid somewhat immobile, unwilling to get up himself. The only effort he made to move was to swat a buzzing mosquito away from his ear. Much as Dean’s little wrestling match woke him up, being tickled shook him up even more so. It always took a minute to recover.

When he finally did get up, Castiel found Dean setting a pot of water on the propane stove. He claimed it was for making coffee, though Castiel had a hard time believing Dean still needed waking up after that little episode in the tent.

Nonetheless, he went along with it as Dean put him in charge of breakfast. He would’ve been acutely hesitant to fulfill the task, seeing as last time Dean let him cook in his house, he nearly burnt down the kitchen (cooking eggs, the most simplest food, of all things). However, after a quick search through the tub of food, Castiel found a box of Froot Loops and a couple of oranges. That counted as breakfast, so that was good enough for the both of them.

Castiel readied the table with two paper bowls and plastic spoons. He filled each bowl halfway with milk before pouring in the cereal. It drove Dean crazy that he chose to do it in that particular order, but Castiel had done that very much on purpose. “It’s payback,” he claimed, “for making me throw you across the tent.”

With a shrug, Dean accepted that easily enough.

To finish setting up, Castiel placed a roll of paper towels in the middle in case of spills. He started peeling the oranges to fill time as Dean finished with the beverages. He’d gotten Dean’s fully peeled and made it halfway around his own, when Dean set a mug by his side. “Green chai,” he said, taking the seat across. “A bit of sugar, lots of milk, and a metric crapton of honey.”

Castiel grinned, forgetting all about his orange as he took the mug in his hands. “Just the way I like it.”

Dean nodded. “Just the way you like it.”

“I thought you were only making coffee.”

“Well, you like that stuff more, so…” he shrugged, “I brought some.”

“Oh. Thank you, Dean.”

“Thank yourself. You left a whole box at my house.”

“I left it for Sam. He said he wanted to try it.”

“Yeah, no. That ends now,” Dean commanded, shaking his head. “You’re not infecting my little brother with your sickening love of tea.”

Castiel laughed. “I don’t think that’s your decision to make. If Sam wants tea, then—”

“Then too friggin’ bad.”

“Hmph.” Accepting defeat, Castiel blew onto his mug. Judging by the tendrils of steam and burning heat seeping through the sides, it was still too hot. He took a moment to fiddle with the tag at the end of the string. “He probably didn’t like it anyways. I left this box a month ago.”

“And I would’ve sent it back with you sooner, had you actually come over since then...”

“A month??” Castiel was glad he hadn’t taken a sip yet; he probably would’ve spit it out at that. “It’s already been that long?”

Dean nodded. “Mhmm.”

“But I came over last week to spend—” No, that was wrong. Castiel had cancelled plans on him. Again. He’d been so busy packing and preparing for college, he never even realized it’d been so long since he’d seen Dean. But a whole month? How on Earth did that happen?

“I guess it really has been a while…” Castiel muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dean sighed, but did so with a smile. “We’re hangin’ out now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Castiel grinned back, “we are.”

At that, Dean rose what must’ve been a cup of black coffee to his lips and downed half it in one gulp. “So,” he began, slamming down the mug, “what should we do today?”

Castiel shrugged. “Perhaps we could go swimming a while?”

“If you want.” Dean picked up his spoon and started eating. Mouth half full, he continued, “We could go swimming, go fishing, go for a walk...whatever you want.”

Whatever he wanted? Well, Castiel had never gone fishing before, so that might be something to try out. He even bought his own license. And going on a walk sounded nice, especially with weather like this. Maybe Dean could take him through the forest, if he asked again. “I choose all of the above,” Castiel said at last. Poking at his cereal with the spoon, he hesitated a moment before asking, “You wouldn’t mind if I started that drawing of you, would you?”

Dean frowned a second, then he proceeded to shove another spoonful in his mouth. “No. Like I said, Cas. Whatever you want.”

“It’ll probably take me a few hours. I don’t want to bore you.”

“I’ll find something to do,” Dean grinned. “I could take out my guitar again.”

Playing guitar. Of course! That was totally Dean’s thing. That’d be perfect for the drawing.

Taking delight in this sudden spark of inspiration, Castiel grinned back. “That’d be nice. I like it when you play.”

Dean said nothing more, devouring breakfast in place of continuing their conversation. Castiel had no problem with that, as he was busy thinking up more ideas for the drawing. Soon enough, Dean’s bowl was emptied and promptly refilled with another batch of Froot Loops and a splash of milk. He was very insistent on showing Castiel the proper, logical way “non-dumbasses” poured cereal. With a roll of the eyes, Castiel pretended to listen and nodded when necessary. Only then was Dean appeased on the matter.

The second bowl disappeared just as quick as the first, and Dean started on his orange. Meanwhile, Castiel still went back and forth between the two, taking a slice of his orange for every fifth spoonful or so of cereal. Dean, being the well-mannered friend he was, threatened to tilt the bowl forward as Castiel brought it to his mouth once each and every Loop of Froot was gone. Ever the forgiving one, Castiel kicked his shin and threatened to spit the milk in his face if he dared try that again.

“That’d be a bit overboard, don’t you think?” Dean laughed. “Something a child would do.”

“Say what you will, Dean. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Note taken.”

Taking his orange with him, Dean stood and walked to his car. He came back with an oily rag, then made his way to the cooler at the end of the table. Squatting down, he opened it and shuffled the contents around a while. “How’s your shoulder doin’?” he asked.

“Oh, um...” Huh, Castiel had forgotten all about his injury. To test it out, he lifted his arm to the side and rolled his shoulder moment. “Mmm...not too bad, actually. Still sore, but it barely hurts. I guess I just stretched it a bit too far.”

Dean gave a short hum in response. He shut the cooler and took the seat next to Castiel. With an orange slice hanging between his lips, Dean waited for him to finish eating.

He didn’t wait long.

“...You’re slow.”

“It’s morning, Dean. Mornings are meant to be slow.”

“Yeah, but not _this_ slow.”

Castiel gave a careless shrug. “Yeah well, you can blame relativity for that.”

“Relativity my ass. You’re a grandma without teeth when it comes to eating, by anyone’s standards.”

“Psh. Anyone who holds standards on rate of culinary consumption is an ass, if you ask me.”

“You calling me an ass?”

“Most definitely.”

“Well,” Dean shrugged, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

Castiel laughed. “What are you sitting around for anyway? You can go get dressed or something, if you’re going to be that impatient.”

“I’m waiting for you to finish eating so I can hand this over.” Dean produced the rag; he’d filled with ice, apparently. When Castiel stared at it questioningly, Dean explained, “For your shoulder. You know, just in case you did more than stretch it a bit…”

“Oh.” Castiel dropped his spoon and took the rag, careful not to let the ice fall out. “Though if I tore anything, I’m sure it’d feel a lot worse than it does now.”

“Just take it, alright? You don’t need to get hurt even worse.”

Without further protest, Castiel placed it over his shoulder. It seemed that Dean was still trying to make up for causing the injury, though that was far from true. Castiel appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Dean was caring like that; even if he didn’t cause a problem, he still felt compelled to fix it.

“Thank you,” Castiel said softly. When he worked up the nerve to look at Dean, he grinned.

But Dean wasn’t looking back. His gaze was dead set on something behind Castiel. Something beyond him.

Frowning, Castiel glanced over his shoulder. What he found was a van a ways down the road, newly parked in the neighboring site. Out jumped two girls. They looked to be the same age, maybe a few years older. Long-haired, slender, and pretty—enough so to capture Dean’s full attention, anyway.

And that was just perfect.

A heavy, crummy ball of dread rolled through Castiel’s stomach, watching Dean’s eyes light up at the sight. Watching him forget their conversation like it never happened. Watching him ignore Castiel’s pleading glare to not go there. Watching Dean fall instantly in love.

Seconds passed, and Dean shot him an eager smirk.

‘No.’ Castiel demanded with his eyes.

‘Oh, but yes,’ Dean’s said back, with heightened eyebrows and a deliberate nod of the head as means of persuasion.

Castiel shook his head right back. ‘The answer is still no.’

But of course, without the approval, Dean went on ahead and stood. “C’mon, Cas. Let’s go make us some friends.”

“You promised it’d just be us,” Castiel rebutted, and it came out a tad more hissy than he meant.

Dean wasn’t phased in the slightest. “It’s no big deal, man. We’re just saying hi is all.”

“Yeah? And then what?”

“And then…” Dean shrugged, and started walking. “And then we see what happens from there.”

“But we haven’t solidified our own plan for the day.”

“They could probably give us some ideas, huh?”

“Wait,” Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm so he couldn’t walk any farther. He thought up another quick excuse and sighed. “They...they’ve hardly been here a minute. At least let them set up first.”

“Actually, I was thinkin’ we could help out with that. You know, brownie points.” Dean promptly winked. Castiel didn’t budge an inch. Dean’s grin disappeared. Rolling his eyes, he continued, “Alright fine. It’ll just be a minute, I promise.”

Castiel scoffed. He crossed his arms. “Last time you said that, I had to wait an hour…”

“Then wait no longer, my friend. I’m bringin’ you with me.”

“But—”

Before Castiel could say much else, Dean was dragging him to the next site over.

“Dibs on the blonde.”

Internally cursing, Castiel went ahead and kissed their potential day plans goodbye. Because there was no way Dean was letting these girls out of his sight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It just felt rude.

Dean was acting so nice and friendly. He grinned and waved and directed attentive gazes to them both. He stood not with his arms glued to his sides, but casually hanging there unless his hands decided it was the appropriate time for gestures. His eyes lit up when they smiled. He spoke in that relaxed, cordial tone that sounded like he would give all he could, when Castiel knew it meant he wanted to take everything. And when Dean discovered their voices were like honey, oh he’d all but fallen in love. The look in his eyes said that much.

And what was Castiel doing? Staring at the dirt with his arms tensely crossed and his mouth clamped shut.

It’s not like he meant to be so rude. He was just too lost in the sneaking suspicion that this was it. The rest of this trip would turn from days full of wonder and exploration into hours upon hours of catering to these girls. It was a sinking feeling, settling heavy in his gut. Because of course Dean wouldn’t miss yet another opportunity to pull this kind of crap. Pretending to be happy about that would only encourage his actions here further.

So Castiel, with his “Problem-Solver of the Year” Award, hunched over and silently moped to his little heart’s content.

“My name’s Janice,” a girl replied once Dean had asked. She gestured to her friend. “And she’s Krissy.”

“Janice, Krissy,” Dean gave them each a second’s glance. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Janice muttered, tucking her chin. Her cherry-colored lips curved into a shy grin. “You too, Dean.”

“...So,” Dean unnecessarily clapped his hands together, “care for some help unloading?”

“Oh, sure.” Janice happily went to open the back of the van. “If you’d like, I mean.”

Dean shrugged. “We’ve got nothin’ better to do.”

And Castiel scoffed. He and Dean had plenty to do, thank you very much. Setting up someone else’s camp could’ve easily been placed at the absolute end of their list.

Nevertheless, Castiel kept his mouth shut as Janice hopped up into the back of the van. She stood amongst the piles of cluttered stuff and handed Dean a rather large plastic container full of cooking supplies. They exchanged courteous looks.

“Thanks,” Dean said, hesitant in taking a step back.

“No,” Janice rang, “thank you.”

Oh, this was getting stupid already. By the looks of it, Krissy thought so too. Castiel caught her rolling her eyes, whether she thought he wasn’t looking or simply hadn’t cared if he was. Hm. Maybe together, they could talk their fellow companions out of this—

“Here.” Janice had turned to grab something else, so Dean took the opportunity to dump the container in Castiel’s arms. “Put it on the table for me, would ya?”

 _Why certainly!_ Internally grumbling, Castiel reasserted his hold on the container and did what he was told, shooting a glare at Dean in hopes it’d communicate how not okay he was with this. He’d gone through this far too many times. On his second trip to the table, Castiel made sure to glare at him again in case he missed the memo the first time around.

Dean ignored it.

He was too busy studying the way Janice bent over to grab the next item. Too busy memorizing how her wavy blonde hair danced in the wind. Too busy waiting for her smiling eyes to meet his again. To him, everything else had disappeared. Dean gazed at a girl he’d seen for the first time five minutes ago, in the exact way Castiel wished he’d been looked at for years. If that wasn’t an immediate punch in the gut, Castiel didn’t know what was. Every trip he made back, having to see Dean go through the motions he knew so well, Castiel felt a part of himself die a little on the inside. He could only be glad and breathe a sigh of relief when Dean told him he could take care of the rest himself.

Suddenly drained, Castiel set whatever he was carrying on the table and plopped down on its bench. He watched as Dean easily switched from handing things over to setting them gently by his feet. Dean went on asking Janice about herself, replying with his own tidbits about himself, not missing a beat in lending a hand when she needed to step down. Janice accepted it warmly. Too warmly. Castiel tried not to groan when they held onto another just a second longer than they needed to—trust him, he tried. But there was enough acid running through his veins to make the irritation and pain an audible one.

“You’ll do anything he tells you, huh?”

Castiel straightened his back. He widened his eyes as Krissy took the seat next to him. She crossed one leg over the other and hunched forward, letting her cheek fall sideways into her palm. Shaking her head at the couple-to-be, she eventually tilted her spiritless glower in Castiel’s direction. “Well?”

“What?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” she questioned, disgruntled.

“Oh, um…” Castiel cleared his throat. “I apologize, Krissy—”

“It’s Kristian.”

“Right, Kristian…” Yikes. She was not happy. “Look, I’m sorry we came over uninvited. I thought it best we leave you two alone, seeing as you had only just arrived. But Dean… he’s a persistent one.”

“Either that, or you’re too much of a pushover to stop him.”

Castiel frowned at that. “So now it’s my fault we have to watch our friends ogle each other for all eternity?” Kristian didn’t budge. Castiel folded his arms. “I am the last person who wanted this. Trust me.”

“Yeah whatever,” Kristian sighed, digging through one of the backpacks he’d set down. “Just get Pretty Boy outta here before I shoot him. I’m not spending my weekend with another reject such as yourself.”

Castiel had to grit his teeth, because wow. That was acutely honest. Kristian tested him with an impatient stare, and he lasted not a measly four seconds before he had to leave her side.

“Dean,” he called out, walking his way. “Let’s get back.”

Dean, of course, was all too lost in his love-bubble with Janice to hear a damn word. It wasn’t until Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder that he was finally paid some mind. “What’s up, Cas?”

“We need to leave. Now,” Castiel said rather bluntly. “So if you don’t mind wrapping this up…”

Dean smirked, but the look in his eyes gave away that he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “Alright,” he mumbled, shooting Janice an apologetic grin. “Uh, guess we’ll leave you alone then. Until my friend here decides otherwise, apparently.”

Janice laughed. “Alright, well, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah...so, I’ll be seein’ you later, Janice.”

“You can call me Jane. If you like.”

“Well in that case, Jane it is.” Dean took a moment to revel in her proximity before stepping away. “And Jane it will be.”

She couldn’t help but grin at that hopeful little promise. Giggling, she said her goodbyes and waved him off.

As for Castiel, he’d already started walking back to their site. Taking Dean away from her felt like pulling a piece of gum off the bottom of his shoe. But it had to be done. He’d be stepping on it all day otherwise.

“What’s got your panties up in a bunch, huh?” Dean muttered in a hushed tone once he caught up.

Castiel trained his eyes on the ground. “Nothing. I just want to get started with the day. Our day.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” And at that, their conversation on the short distance back fell flat.

It was so painfully obvious. Castiel knew Dean wanted to be mad at him, for dragging him away like that. For being so rude. But he couldn’t be. Instead, he’d actually apologized. He was too damn high off of Janice and whatever scent she trailed to even get angry.

_‘This is our weekend. No one else’s. There’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with than you.’_

Dean really seemed to mean it when he said it, but now...

Castiel crossed his fingers. He really hoped Dean wasn’t bullshitting him this time around.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He would sit back against a tree.   

His shoulders and chest would fall back, all limp and carelessly relaxed. Then the ankle of one leg would rest atop the knee of the other, bouncing with each strum of the strings. His eyes would gaze up at the sky through the dancing leaves and squint in the midday sun. His mouth would fall partly open, frozen in the one moment where he murmured whatever lyrics came to mind while a smile barely started to blossom across his face.

There’d be a pair of sandals tossed in the grass beside him, one miraculously upright while the other laid upside-down and half atop it. He’d have nothing on but a pair of gym shorts and a guitar on his lap—the skin of his arms and chest bare as the sky. Shadows would hide beneath him and behind his back, but not a single one would rest on his skin. In fact, his skin would be colored a dark and saturated blue-violet. Then he would be given some stars. The stars would cluster most over his heart. Where the center of the universe would lie, if there ever was such a thing.

Then the thinnest lines would connect the stars dotting his cheeks. This way, the constellations in his freckles would be mapped subtly, yet clearly. One would have to look closely to notice them.

His eyes would be colored in green as the grass. Then the pupils would open like black holes, pulling in anyone who met them. No one looked at Dean Winchester without feeling drawn in.

Most of the weight would fall to the lower-left corner of the page, with the smallest hints of a lake and surrounding brush stretching out to the other edges of the page. The rest would be Dean and his guitar.

That was the plan, anyway.

So far, Castiel had only mapped out the basic composition and construction of the drawing. Dean looked more like a plain, flat, bubble-person lying against an upright plank of wood more than anything. And Dean, switching up his posture every five minutes, wasn’t doing much to help. Nevertheless, it was still a start. Castiel felt confident in that.

He and Dean rowed out to a small island brimming with trees. It was the closest island to their campsite, and it was one of the few with dense shade. Seeing as it was a cloudless, 80-something-degree day already, Castiel found that a necessity. Sure they could’ve found shade just as nice in their site, and it would’ve been much easier than hauling out onto the lake again. But...the farther Dean was from Janice, the better.

Dean had brought his guitar, so he was a lot less generous in his rocking of the canoe on the way out this time around. Almost immediately he settled in a spot in the grass and started to play. He strummed a familiar tune every now and then, but most of what he played was gentle and new. After a while he asked Castiel to whistle a tune—any tune, really, long as he made it up himself—and started building a melody around that. Once he got tired of it, he asked for another. Castiel threw a bad one in there just to see how Dean handled it. Just as he predicted, Dean turned it into something more pleasant.

“That one was terrible on purpose, wasn’t it?” Dean asked.

Castiel laughed. He didn’t bother looking up from his sketchbook. “Maybe.”

“Hm.” Setting his guitar in the grass, Dean laid down. His left hand tapped a beat on his chest as his gaze was lost in the leaves above him. Castiel sort of wished Dean would just sit still for a freaking minute. Dude was acting like he drank twelve cups of coffee instead of two. But the way he lied flat and crossed his arms behind his head had his shirt inching up. Castiel would need to be blind to not realize it had revealed those sinful hipbones of his. That got him to set his sketchbook down a minute.

“You done?” Dean asked, shooting a single-eyed glance.

“Not even close.”

“Can I see what it looks like so far?”

“No.” Dean reached out for the sketchbook anyway. Castiel shut it tight. “Sorry. You aren’t allowed to take a single peek until it’s entirely finished.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I said so,” Castiel declared easily enough. “I might change my mind though, if you ever decided to sit still.”

“I ain’t no model, Cas.”

_Oh but lord, you could be._

Castiel had to summon every ounce of willpower not to slam a palm over his own mouth. Because he was _this_ close to blurting that aloud.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Dean, you don’t need to be a model. All I’m saying is that a toddler would be less antsy than you right now.”

After a moment, Dean shrugged. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Care to elaborate?”

When Dean spent the next few minutes in utter silence, Castiel finally took that as a “no.”

Puffing his cheeks, Castiel reopened his sketchbook and skimmed for the drawing. Upon locating it, he scanned the page for any incorrect proportions in Dean’s body. His left leg appeared slightly longer than the other, so he lightly drew another on top. Now he had to shift the positioning and weight of his guitar, since it looked a bit off after that. But, with his eraser worn down from previous drawings, Castiel drew another couple of circles and a line to resemble the guitar over the old one. He’d have to conserve his small eraser for fine tuning once he was a bit further—

“You think Janice digs The Beatles?”

At that, Castiel stilled his hand. Then he rolled his eyes. Of course Dean was thinking about her.

Dean continued, “With that hippie van and that dress she was wearin’, I’d say signs point to yes.”

“I don’t know,” Castiel muttered, “people aren’t always what they seem.”

As if Castiel hadn’t spoken a damn word, Dean went on, “And that long, wavy hair...man. I wonder which song she likes best.”

“She could be into, I don’t know, Megadeth for all I care.”

Snickering, Dean sat up. “I’ll take my chances with The Beatles, thanks. Practice up on some of their stuff.”

“Good plan!” And Castiel hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic when saying that. It just came out that way.

Nor did Dean seem to notice. With his guitar in hand once again, he plucked the first couple notes of _I’ve Just Seen A Face._ “Am I sittin’ in the right position?”

“Sure.”

“You didn’t even look.”

True. But Castiel didn’t even want to look at him at the moment. Stubbornly, he kept his nose buried in his sketchbook. “Sit however you want, Dean. I’ll get the rest down fine.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

While it was still very much a bother, the fact that Dean was planning to meet Janice later wasn’t what angered Castiel. It was the fact that Dean hadn’t even asked him if it was fine. And he didn’t ask because he already knew. He knew Castiel hated it when he did this stuff, yet he went on ahead and did it again anyway. Castiel had long since dismissed the excuse, “I can’t help it. When I see a pretty girl, I just gotta get to know ‘em.” That was bullshit. Castiel held back on the flirting and longing looks and lovey-dovey _whatever_ for two straight years. No matter how hard it was, or how much his love grew, he held back. So Dean sure as hell could keep it in his pants a few more days—whether he got permission from Castiel or not.

Maybe…maybe if Castiel told him how he felt now, Dean would at least have the decency to stop—

No, no. What was he thinking? He couldn’t admit what he felt over some stupid, jealous internal tirade. That deserved a much better opportunity. And now wasn’t the time.

But what if a better opportunity never comes around?

“Whoa. Who trampled your daisies?”

Castiel frowned more than he already must’ve been. “What?”

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Halting his strumming, Dean flashed a tiny, supportive grin. “Looks like you just watched someone kill your cat.”

Castiel only pouted more at the thought. “Not my little Goose...”

Dean laughed. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just…” He let out a much needed sigh. “I messed up, on the drawing. That’s all.”

“Ah.” Dean nodded in faked understanding, then leant back on a tree. He started strumming his guitar again. “Well, you’re not even close to finishing, right? How bad would it be to start over?”

“It’d be the worst.”

“Yeah, okay. Not like you have an eraser or extra paper, anyway.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you let me draw how I draw, and you can continue being your guitar-playing, male-modeling self? Sound good?”

“Hey. Just tryin’ to help.”

“And I thank you sincerely.”

Dean laughed again. Under his breath, he muttered, “Drama Queen.” Castiel pretended not to hear.

Though he played it for another, Castiel focused on the sound of Dean’s guitar. His playing was soft, his mind most definitely elsewhere while his fingers plucked what was ingrained into them. Getting lost in the rhythm, lost in the notes, it soothed Castiel’s nerves. Just for a minute he was allowed to feel okay.

Then Dean started playing _Across the Universe._

That would’ve been completely fine. Favorable in fact. And it was, up until Dean reached the end of the second chorus. He nodded to Castiel then and said, “I think I’ll go with this one.” As in, he’d play it for Janice later, no question.

Castiel muttered back that it was a good choice. He would know, after all.

That was his favorite Beatles song.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon, Cas. Just do it.”

“For the billionth time, I said no.”

“You placed first in State for this stuff. First. And it was awesome. You’ve got this.”

“Not from this dock…”

“Why not? The water’s deep enough here. S’like twenty feet. Don’t worry, I checked. So come on. Let’s go. I ain’t waitin’ any longer.”

“Dean—”

“Do it! Go for gold! Fight! Believe! Win!”

“For the love of God, shut your damn—”

“DIVE!”

“Fine!!”

Dean whooped and threw his arms in the air. Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes. Because this was really stupid. He’d already done a simple forward dive, but that just wasn’t “awesome enough” for Dean. In fact, it was “extraordinarily underwhelming.” He was supposed to throw in a couple twists and flips, apparently. Such was an idiotic request, seeing as the dock he was currently sitting on was so low. Flipping off of any firm surface so close to the water always ended in welts.

But, Dean wanted him to do it. He wouldn’t shut the hell up otherwise.

“Alright folks, up next we have Novak,” Dean announced to no one but himself. “He’ll be executing dive number five-three-two-six-eight-four-three, A-B-C-D-E. A reverse two and a half somersault with a triple twist in the free position. Degree of difficulty: infinity.”

“Uh. Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”

“We’re sorry, folks. We seem to be experiencing some attitude difficulties. Please stand by.”

Castiel groaned and unfolded his arms, but he couldn’t stop the tug at the corners of his mouth from forming into a grin. Despite how insane Dean’s constant begging had made him, Castiel rather enjoyed the undivided attention from his friend—another reason he’d been so hesitant to fulfill his requests.

Castiel rose to his feet and played along with the game. He took the steps back necessary for an optimal approach and raised his right arm. “Can you repeat the dive please?”

“Uh... “ Dean drew a blank, but only for a second. “Dive number five-three-two-one-eight-three. A reverse two and a half somersault, with a triple twist in the free position. Degree of difficulty: infinity.”

Castiel rose his arm again. “I’d like to change the position from free to pike, please.”

“That’s against the rules, Novak. Let alone possible.”

“Oh, like the dive you announced is even a—you know what? Nevermind. I’ll execute it.” Castiel let his hand flutter down and swoop into a courteous bow. “Gladly.”

It was a lie, obviously. No one in their right mind could expect him to perform such a dive. He’d go for some amount of a forward somersault, perhaps throw in a twist, and that was the farthest he’d take it. Nothing backwards, nothing inwards. And certainly not reverse. That way, he was sure to be moving away from the dock. Hitting water and water only was the one goal here.

Well, hitting Dean too, maybe. Bastard would deserve it.

Letting out a puff of air, Castiel focused his blurred vision on the other end of the lake. He took three progressively larger steps, then lunged forward. He threw himself off the dock and as high into the air as he could, tucking one hand across his chest and throwing the other behind his head. He spun twice in one direction and once and a half in another, but it all happened so fast, next thing he knew, his palms were collecting sand from the bottom of the lake. He could hear Dean cheering him on before he even broke the surface.

“Hell yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Wide-eyed and laughing, Dean attacked Castiel from the side. “The crowd goes wild! The judges give a perfect score! Ten outa ten across the board!”

Castiel laughed back and gave a quiet “thank you,” but Dean was too rambunctious to notice. He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist and shook him about. While Dean busied himself with throwing gallons of water to the sky, Castiel was treading for dear life, doing his best to stay afloat.

If anyone was watching, it probably looked and sounded like they were trying to drown each other.

Dean somehow managed to calm down a considerable amount. “I don’t even know what kind of dive that was. But it was awesome.”

“Neither do I,” Castiel muttered, trying not to get any water in his mouth. It didn’t help that Dean was giving him a thorough noogie, pushing him deeper and deeper into the lake.

“Do it again?”

“Would you quit it??” Just before Dean could dunk him completely under, Castiel scrambled free of his hold. He sent a splash in Dean’s general direction for good measure.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It was a maybe.”

Dean hummed, contented. In lazy circles, he started swimming backstroke. Neither so inclined to paddle around nor leave Dean alone in the lake, Castiel swiped the lifejacket from the dock and slumped himself over it. He also plucked his glasses from its place on his sandals and shirt and slid them over his nose. He bobbed aimlessly about, watching as Dean drifted around him, his watered freckles glistening under the sun.

“Man, I miss our meets,” Dean said after a while. “Watching you destroy the competition was the friggin’ best.”

Castiel gave a shy grin. “It wasn’t nearly as great as you winning against Zach-freaking-Barton at the fifty free. That was quite an intense race.”

“Nah, that was nothin’…”

“You were out to beat his time all four seasons, Dean.”

“That means nothing—”

“And you set three school records.”

“So? You set the _state_ record.”

“...That means nothing.”

“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes, but smiled. “You’re trying out for the team in college, right? Please tell me you are.”

Shit. He never told Dean.

The coach had already shaken his hand and had been speaking with him ever since their last meet in the fall. He’d already signed onto the team and everything. Practices started weeks before the academic year; that was the whole reason he was leaving home so early. And he never told Dean, because talking about college with him always left a sour taste. Granted, Dean never failed to mention how happy he was for Castiel. He truly meant it every time, and Castiel recognized that. But there was always that small tang of bitterness in Dean’s eyes, that forlorn tone in his voice when they spoke of their futures. Castiel hated that as much as he could hate anything, so he tried his hardest to avoid it.

But there was no avoiding it now, was there?

“They uh, they already recruited me.”

The look Dean gave him was unreadable, though he hadn’t faltered in swimming circles. “Right, of course they did. Congrats man.”

“Thank you.”

“Good to know you’ll be telling me these things.”

And there it was. That tang of bitterness; that forlorn tone. Castiel wished he’d just turn into stone and submerge himself as the contentment in Dean’s expression died a slow, hidden death.

Castiel fiddled with his hands. “I-I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I should’ve told you sooner—”

“Hey Dean!”

They both glanced over their shoulders, back towards shore. It was Janice. She waved a hand while the other held a beige sun hat to the back of her head, as it was eager to fly with the wind. Her sundress fluttered at her ankles. Her hair shone gold. Her smile beamed brighter than the cloudless sky above.

It was more than enough to cheer Dean right up.

“What’s up, Jane?” he asked, flashing a charming grin.

“Well, Krissy and I finally got settled in, so I thought we might come down to the lake while it was still nice. Mind if we join?”

“By all means.”

Janice took her time in walking across the gravelly shore and onto the dock. Once she reached the edge, she set her tote bag down and took a seat. Modestly poised, she dipped her toe in the water. She shivered and caught her rippling reflection smiling back. And like the damn siren she was, she drew Dean over in a heartbeat.

“Too cold for you?” he teased.

“Maybe,” she laughed, cupping her shoulders. “I was hoping to catch some sun first, before jumping in.”

As if on cue, Kristian sifted through their tote and handed her the tanning oil. After offering a quiet “thanks,” Janice set it beside her and refocused her attention on Dean. “I thought I heard someone yelling and going crazy down here. Something exciting happen?”

“Ah, it was nothin’.”

“Guess so.”

Castiel attempted to focus on something, anything as long as it wasn’t Dean and that smile of his that could warm a room. Or his voice as it rang for his fickle heart. Or his eyes, and the fact that looking into them was the closest thing to taking in a breath of the freshest air. The fact that Janice was experiencing that sensation right now instead of him—

Along the dirt road was a little boy walking with his parents. He reached for both of their hands with grabby little fingers. They laughed, picked him up off the ground, and together they gently started to swing the boy like a pendulum. The boy chuckled and screamed, his mouth red with Kool Aid or a popsicle or whatever he snacked on before their stroll. His hair was blonde and his shirt was orange, his shorts a mess of green and blue stripes. The second his parents set him safely on the ground, he reached up for them and jumped up and down, squealing “Again! Again!” until they obliged and swung him back and forth and back and forth until the father hunched his shoulders and placed a hand on his back. It brought back memories Castiel never had, and none of it made him feel any better. He decided to focus on something else.

Kristian was reading a book. Whichever book it was, Castiel didn’t know. It was placed flat on her lap. It was a rather large book, and she was near the end. The pages were dog-eared, tattered and yellow. Her chestnut brown hair had been pulled back in a careless ponytail and hung somewhere behind her back. She let her head fall into her palm, covering the mole beneath her left eye with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes skimmed across the page so fast, it was like she wasn’t even reading it after all. That, or she’d read it before and already knew what would happen. Above all, she looked bored.

Then her eyes lifted off the page and darted straight for Castiel. She stared daggers at him, and he could take all but a sixty-fourth of a second of it before he had to look away.

Castiel finally settled for his reflection on the water. It stared back too, of course, but at least its stare was one he could endure. With each little wave that rolled beneath, his reflection deformed in an unpredictable manner. His features meshed and traded places constantly. The water underneath was never calm enough to offer his true appearance.

“So Jane, what kind of music are you into?”

“Rock, mostly. I kinda of have a huge thing for The Beatles, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’ve been my favorite since I can remember.”

“Huh. I never would’a guessed.”

Janice took the time to stand and remove her sun hat. She crossed her arms over her chest, gathered the sides of her dress into her palms, and lifted it up and over her head. She still wore a relatively modest bikini, colored a clean pearl white. Raking a hand through her hair, she removed a large beach towel from her tote and unfurled it in the wind. She let it fall gently before stepping atop. She bent over to grab the tanning oil, careful to wrap an arm over her chest as she did so.

Dean, absolutely mesmerized and doing a hell of a job hiding it, glanced over every inch of skin. He continued to yammer on about whatever the hell he’d been saying, and Janice nodded as she began applying the oil to her shoulders and arms. Innocent as she was in her manner, roving over her skin efficiently, she managed to render Dean speechless by the time she reached her thighs.

Castiel took the opportunity to speak up. Clearing his throat, he called out to Dean. Surprisingly, he looked back.

“Yeah, Cas?” he replied, his voice half a note higher than it should’ve been.

“I’m getting hungry. Might I request that we head back to our site and have lunch?”

“In a bit.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

“And I’m not, so…”

Oh, but he was hungry for _something_. After a much needed sigh, Castiel went on, “Can we go fishing then? I’d still like to, and I bet by the time we caught something, you’d be hungry.”

“We’re not gonna catch anything in the middle of the day. Fish don’t bite when it’s hot and sunny.”

“Will you make something for me then? You know I’m terrible with—”

“There’s plenty ready-made food in the cooler and in the tubs. I’m sure you can find something on your own.” _You’re annoying me and embarrassing me. Just leave if that’s what you want._

Gritting his teeth, Castiel spoke not a word more and went for the ladder. He left the lifejacket in the water for Dean to take care of—or not, if he so chose. Either way, it would be no big deal. Dean could just buy another one at the store on the way home. He was the type to replace things easily enough, after all.

Janice stepped to the side as Castiel made it back onto the dock. “Excuse me,” he uttered, trying not to drip all over her towel.

“Oh, you’re fine,” she said, offering a small smile. Castiel wished he could give one back.

Castiel searched the dock for his shirt. Dean’s was easy to spot, some odd feet behind Kristian. But his own? It sat crumpled beneath Janice’s tote bag, his sandals along with it.

He already overstayed his welcome, though. Thus Castiel walked to camp back with neither, the sun hot on his back, the gravel cutting through the skin of his feet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You look pathetic.”

Castiel looked up from the table. Kristian was heading towards his site, taking slow, indifferent steps as she made her way over.

Castiel grumbled. Last thing he needed while playing Solitaire was someone to tell him how pathetic he looked. He was well aware of that already, thank you very much. He proceeded to shuffle through his cards as if he hadn’t heard a single word.

Once Castiel had made it back to the campsite, he found a new shirt and slipped on some socks. He sat amongst the blankets and sleeping bags strewn about the tent, massaging the knots and nerves of his feet until they felt usable again. Fortunately his shoes were completely dry, so he’d slipped those on in place of Dean’s blistering sandals. It was overwhelmingly nice to feel their comfort and support once again.

Though it had been a lie that he was hungry, Castiel rinsed his hands and was soon busy preparing himself a lunch. He found another turkey sub, a container of mixed berries, and a cola in the cooler. Then he found some potato chips in one of the tubs. After dumping everything except the cola on a plate, he poked the food with a fork for what must’ve been ten minutes, all before he realized he never wanted any of it in the first place.

So he’d pushed the plate aside and grabbed his regular blue deck of cards from where it had been left yesterday. Spotting Dean’s red deck, he plucked it from its place and promptly chucked it into the tent’s open door. It had been in his way, after all, and he needed to clear an area of the table for a game of Solitaire.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve touched your food much yet,”  Kristian oh-so-keenly observed. “Seemed like you were pretty eager to eat earlier.”

“I lost my appetite.”

“Then you won’t throw a hissy fit if I eat it, right?”

Castiel shrugged. “Go for it. Though I haven’t been keeping a good eye on it. If any flies or any other such pests have been circling around or on it, I wouldn’t know. So at your own risk…”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Kristian took the seat opposite. She lifted the sandwich off the plate, smelt it, then took a bite. Castiel brainlessly went on shuffling through cards.

“Dean and Jane are still exchanging copious amounts of eye-sex, in case you were wondering.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was wondering.” Castiel set the next three cards down with a bit more force than he meant to. “Please, do tell.”

“I mean, it’s no doubt they’ll be moving on to the real deal any minute here. Figured I might as well come pretend to be your friend some more in the meantime. It’ll give Jane one more thing to be happy about.”

Neither thankful for her presence nor that mental image, Castiel bit back any response he had, praying she’d just take the food and disappear.

She didn’t.

“God, who made this thing?” Kristian made a face at the sub. “It’s disgusting.”

“They’re much better when not cold and soggy and three days old,” Castiel informed. “I promise.”

“I hope you’re right, dude. Because this stuff’s nasty.”

“Well I suppose you’ll just have to take my word for it, then.”

“Word taken.” Kristian dropped the sub back onto the plate, not caring that some of its contents tumbled onto the table. She went for the chips next, and those seemed to agree with her much better.

The two went on in silence for the rest of her meal. Castiel found himself stuck with no moves, so he jumbled his cards into one giant pile and started over. As he regrouped the cards into a single deck, Kristian helped herself to the cooler. Castiel hadn’t bothered to stop her.

“You two didn’t pack any beer? Lame.”

“I know. Just be glad it’s not a bunch of kiddy juice boxes in there.”

Kristian left the cooler open. She reclaimed her seat at the table and popped open another can of cola. “Ten bucks says they’re naked before they even reach the van.”

Castiel stilled his hands at that. He shot a glare over his glasses and squinted his eyes tight. “If that turns out to be the case, then I will gladly let you shoot Dean.”

Kristian just snickered. At this point, it was stupidly obvious how much it bothered Castiel to talk about it. Kristian was delighting in every bit of it, no doubt. “Really now,” she asked, amused.

Castiel nodded. “Oh yeah. Go crazy. Rip him a new one, right in his taut, naked, little ass. I wouldn’t care. Here, I’ll even load the gun for you.”

Castiel went on grumbling to himself, his face tucked down and out of eyeshot. He’d only been halfway serious, and he immediately regretted saying any of it, but in the end he just needed to get _something_ off his chest. Now that his spiel was over, Kristian was giving him a rather curious look in place of her teasing. For a long moment, the air between them was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Oh my god.” Kristian spoke hardly above a whisper. “You’re totally in love with him.”

At that moment, Castiel wanted to run as far as his legs would carry him and hide where no one could ever find him and cry as long as he desperately needed to. He wanted to forget hearing anything. Forget feeling anything. Because he _was_ in love with Dean, and that was by far the largest, most terrifying truth in his life. He all but crumpled in on himself at being figured out and accused—by someone he’d met the same freaking day, no less.

Castiel rifled through his cards. He felt small. His voice came out smaller. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit! It’s written all over your stupid face.” Arms crossed, Kristian grinned devilishly and tapped a finger against her elbow, waiting for any sort of outright confession.

Well, Castiel wasn’t going to let her pry it out of him, that was for damn sure. He was saving those words for someone else.

“Assume what you will, Kristian. I wouldn’t care either way.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

If anything, the rapid flushing of his cheeks only gave away the truth even more. His face had grown too hot all too quickly, he might as well have thrown himself in a furnace. But what scared him more was how quickly Kristian pieced it together. If it was that obvious, then how come Dean never pointed or figured it out? Was he really still so unaware? Castiel hoped that was the case; a thorny feeling in his chest told him otherwise. Dean probably knew all along, and hitting on girls left and right had been his own indirect fashion of telling him to just get over it already. _Things will never swing in your favor. Accept that and be done, please._ Dean never would’ve faced the issue head on, after all, no matter how long it dragged out.

The more Castiel thought about it, the more it made sense.

Guilt was a weight settling heavy on his shoulders. Anxiety was an old friend creeping back to constrict his lungs. It was only made worse when Dean returned to their site, a stupidly huge grin plastered on his face.

Castiel said nothing as Dean buzzed in and out of the tent, collecting his guitar and a handful of snacks and things. Fresh out of the lake, his hair and shorts were still dripping wet. He threw his towel on the edge of the table, then started his way towards Janice and Kristian’s site.

Before he could leave entirely, Castiel stood. “Dean.” He reached out to snag Dean’s wrist. It was the only alternative to wringing the end of his own shirt like some nervous child about to piss himself. “Can...can we talk a minute?”

“Uh.” Dean paused a moment. He seemed to register the distress in Castiel’s request, at least. “Maybe later,” he said anyway. “Jane and I were going to jam out for a bit. Turns out she plays some guitar herself.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Cas, I—”

“Please,” Castiel begged, incidentally wringing his fingers tighter. “It’s important.”

Biting his lip, Dean scratched his neck and shifted closer. “Alright. What is it, what’s on your mind?”

Janice was watching from the road. Kristian had her full attention glued to the scene. Dean held an impatient eye over Castiel’s, pinning him in place. Castiel opened his mouth to speak.

_You promised you wouldn’t do this._

Castiel dropped his wrist. “Nevermind,” he muttered, clenched jaw and all. “I wouldn’t want you to keep Jane on hold. It can wait. So, um...have fun.”

“Thanks,” Dean smirked, patting Castiel’s shoulder. He joined Janice’s side on the dirt road, and they walked away together. Struck with the sudden impulse to vomit, Castiel sat back down before he could fall down. He tried not to pay any mind to the sweetened banter as Dean and Jane trailed further and further away.

Damn it. He couldn’t have said it in front of Kristian and Jane. He couldn’t have said it just to stop Dean from walking away.

“Dude.”

Kristian tossed her empty cola cans in the firepit and slid out of the bench. “You need to get your shit straightened out with him,” she said, taking off as well.

Before leaving Castiel utterly and completely abandoned, she turned back around one last time. “But hey, ‘least they weren’t naked, right?”

As for Castiel? Well. He simply couldn’t agree more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel’s best pencil was worn down to a useless nib by the time he finished his linework. Knowing of the dangers and permanence of faulty inking, he’d taken strenuous care in going over the page with a fine drawing pen. For that, his left hand was cramped as all hell and his eyes sore from holding his sketchbook so close to his face. He was quite proud of the end result nonetheless, more than happy to go over any remaining graphite smudges with an eraser and begin coloring.

Castiel made sure to sharpen each and every one of his colored pencils beforehand. He’d been forgetful enough to leave his sharpener in his desk drawer at home. So, remembering that Dean had stashed away his pocketknife in his jacket, he used that instead. To his surprise, it worked out better than his actual sharpener at home. He thanked his newfound marshmallow-stick-whittling-skills for that.

He started with the lightest colors first. Mixing layers of yellows and greens, Castiel hatched in the grass meticulously, deliberate in his pressure and direction of each little stroke. The sky looked rather boring after that, so he took a light blue and started penciling it in. He made sure not to press too hard, as the sky was obviously a part of the background and should recede as such. After that came the trunk of the tree and its many dancing leaves.

Castiel was hesitant in coloring Dean. For one thing, he knew he’d have to be even more careful, as messing up there would ruin the entire thing. Cross a line in just the wrong place, and it’d stick out like a sore thumb. Adding too much of one color meant adding too little of another, and that would throw everything off balance. To top it all off, Castiel realized he’d chosen a rather complicated skin tone for Dean—if he could even call it a skin tone. He was most unsure of how to portray it as the snippet of the night sky he’d intended. Would that read clearly in the end? Would it even make sense? Or would it turn out just plain ugly and weird?

Castiel sighed. He set his sketchbook aside and rolled the pad of his thumb over his palm. His hand was more than cramped at this point, and it didn’t help that there was a reddening blister on his finger from holding the pencils so tight. He’d have to finish the drawing later.

Resettling his glasses on, Castiel dug around the mess of pencils and blankets for his watch. If he hadn’t been so incessant on checking the time, Castiel bet he would’ve finished the drawing by now. He searched for his watch every few minutes anyway. It really hadn’t mattered in the long run; time kept moving whether he checked it or not. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know how long Dean kept away. With each passing increment, his heart sunk, bit by torturous bit.

The large hand had revolved nearly five times since Dean left with Janice. Within that course of time, checking his watch again and again, Castiel found that his heart had sunk a lot.

But! Not to worry. Dean would come back soon, they would be back on track with their plans, Castiel would finally confess his undying love, everything would work out just fine and dandy, he was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. Certainly Dean wasn’t so careless as to leave his very best friend on his own much longer…

Then again, he’d told himself those exact words five hours ago, the moment he stepped foot back in the tent.

Castiel stood. He reached his hands high as he could while in the tent, then rolled back on his heels to stretch his calves. He twisted his spine left and right, relieved to hear it crack so much. Taking in a prolonged yawn, he tousled his hair and rubbed his face. He needed to move around. Sitting around so long only made him tired and sore.

Castiel tucked his shoes on. He’d go for a walk, and if Dean wasn’t back by the time he returned, then he’d go on another. If by then Dean still wasn’t back, he’d take the canoe out on his own and float on the lake. He’d teach himself how to row solo and fish with a lure. He’d catch and gut and cook his own dinner, and he wouldn’t let Kristian near it this time.

And if Dean wasn’t back by then? Well, he’d just have to steal Baby and drive himself home.

It felt strange walking alone. Everyone else had at least one friend or family member to keep company, and Castiel was very out of place because of it. They even gave him odd looks as he passed by. Perhaps they felt bad for him. Perhaps they thought he was scouting out a site to rob later that night. Either way, it made him less inclined to continue walking. Not even halfway around the loop, Castiel decided to head back.

And there Dean was, grinning shyly, flashing welcoming eyes. Sitting on the log in front of the firepit.

In Janice’s site, of course.

They finally emerged from the back of her van, apparently. Together they sat side by side, thighs and shoulders touching as they laughed and conversed. They faced away from him. Yet even from this angle and distance, Castiel saw the spark ignite in Dean’s spirit when he reached for her face and tucked a ringlet of her hair behind her ear. He kept his hand in place for three seconds and it was three seconds too long. Janice, blushing and yearning, was drawn in by his touch—who in the hell wouldn’t be? Following her lead, Dean leant in as well. The enthusiasm shining through his visage transformed into something far more earnest.

Castiel made it back to the campsite, just in time to witness their first kiss.

At first he thought it was his glasses playing tricks on him; they were fairly scratched up and dirty at this point. But even after removing, breathing onto, cleaning, and putting them back on, it only became more clear. Dean had kissed her first, and Janice seemed to have only finished processing the mere idea. Once they parted (and they parted ever so agonizingly slowly), Janice must’ve been very much on board with the thought, as she kissed him again. And again. Castiel wasn’t going to stand around to witness the end of it.

Instead, he shut himself right back in the tent. Castiel hastily scooped up his drawing supplies and let himself fall onto the air mattress. The image was all too burned in his mind, Dean caressing Janice’s side as she threaded an arm around his. Their lips not colliding but connecting, moving, dancing in harmony. The golden light of day playing with their hair. It was a beautiful sight, they were beautiful together, and Castiel hated himself for admitting that.

With a trembling hand, Castiel flipped through his sketchbook. It took him longer than it should’ve but at last he found the drawing of Dean. He still wanted to love how it was turning out, but something  told him that wouldn’t be enough. Regardless, he snatched the yellow pencil from the ground and nailed its tip to the page. It landed directly over Dean’s forehead. If he couldn’t rid of the way Dean’s hair shone from his mind, then he might as well make good use of it.

He couldn’t move his hand. It wouldn’t stop shaking. Castiel drew in a deep breath, but that helped nothing and was even quite shaky in itself. The air was poisoned so he decided one deep breath had been enough. The walls were collapsing over him, on top of him, into him. His senses were going numb and he knew that only meant he was about to feel the worst of it. His shuddering lungs clenched and constricted themselves in defense. He was under attack—cowering in doubt and absolute certainty—that of his own stupid, pathetic, naive, lovelorn heart.

The yellow pencil in his hand snapped in half, his patience along with it. The page before him grew so blurry so fast, he could’ve sworn he was going blind. Then his eyes burned hot as they ever could, streaking his face and neck with lines that singed his very skin.

Survival instincts kicked in, and he sucked in a breath that was ashamedly loud and sharp. Castiel threw his sketchbook to the ground, letting its pages crash and scrape against the sand on the tarp. He had to curl in on himself and hide his face in his knees. His arms protected his ears, and now that he could neither see nor hear, it was entirely safe to assume the rest of the world couldn’t detect him either. Only then did he let himself completely fall apart.

Dean didn’t love him. Dean couldn’t love him. Dean would never love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 3A ST:
> 
> Morning Song - Le Loup  
> I've Just Seen A Face - The Beatles  
> I'm a Fool for You Girl - T. Rex  
> He Doesn’t Know Why - Fleet Foxes  
> Julia - The Beatles  
> Bird Stealing Bread - Iron & Wine  
> Across the Universe - The Beatles (Rufus Wainwright cover)  
> Soon or Never - Punch Brothers  
> Only - RY X
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	6. Day 3B - Shooting Stars Grant Wishes!

“Oh my god Cas, you’ll never believe—whoa. What the...”

Dean stood outside the tent door. Damp with tears, Castiel didn’t bother to turn and face him.

“Looks like a tornado came through. What the hell happened?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh. Too late for that, man.”

“I’ll fix it later.”

“Damn right you will. It’s a friggin’ mess in here.”

“How very observant of you.”

Dean snickered and stepped in. Fabric rustled, and he was halfway done zipping the door shut before speaking again. “I’m just stoppin’ by to grab some food and change out of my swim trunks. Damn things keep riding up my ass…” He turned around. “I’ve got Jane in the bag, dude. We’re totally gonna—Jesus, are you bleeding?!”

Castiel only tucked his fist closer to his chest. He had no good answer to that question.

Tripping over his own feet, Dean scrambled to Castiel’s side and pried his shell of a being open. Castiel didn’t resist. He reached his trembling hand out to his friend, red seeping between the cracks of his fingers.

“Cas! What the hell!”

“I-I didn’t mean to, I swear, my hand just slipped and it—”

“Jesus, come here.” Dean promptly dragged Castiel to his feet and out of the tent. He sat him at the table and rushed over to his car. He came back not a moment later with a first aid kit.

“Gimme,” Dean demanded, taking Castiel’s hand from him. Castiel unfurled his fist, his fingers sore from being clenched so long. His palm was caked in blood.

He really hadn’t meant to. He just needed to throw some shit around, he would’ve exploded off the face of the Earth otherwise. He’d forgotten all about Dean’s opened pocketknife amongst the strewn pile of drawing supplies, so he blindly went to grab some. A sharp pain had skimmed swiftly across his fingers, and before he could do much about it, it had already freed three rapid trails of red.

Extending Castiel’s hand over the ground, Dean rinsed most the blood off by pouring a bottle of water. He reclenched Castiel’s fist for him before too much more could seep out.

“How’d this happen?”

Castiel shrugged. He’d thought up a decent enough lie before Dean even showed up. “I was using your knife to sharpen my pencils. I must’ve been holding it wrong, or I wasn’t careful enough, I don’t know. It just slipped and nicked my hand.”

Dean shook his head. “You clumsy son of a bitch…” He quickly doused a clean white rag in rubbing alcohol. “Squeeze this,” he said, not giving Castiel much of a choice in the matter.

So Castiel held it. Immediately it stung and burned and burrowed deep in his open veins. It hurt and he wanted to cry. It didn’t bring any tears to his eyes, though, even when he squeezed tight. He’d run out of those a long time ago.

Dean had another towel ready, and he kept it dry. Once he had three sets of cotton squares and gauze laid out, he replaced the wet towel in Castiel’s hand with the dry, bunched up one. “Alright, just relax a minute okay? I’m gonna dress them one at time.”

Castiel just nodded.

His index finger was the first to get dressed. Dean instructed him to keep the remaining two pressed hard against the towel in the meantime. “They’re supposed to be a bit tight, but tell me if I’m wrapping ‘em too tight, okay?”

“You’re doing fine.”

Next came the middle finger, and finally the ring finger. Dean was stroking the back of Castiel’s afflicted hand again, just as he had with the splinter removal. Only this time he was a bit more frantic and irregular with his movements. It wasn’t by much, but the difference was there nonetheless.

“There.” Dean checked each binding one last time before returning his hand back to Castiel. “That should hold for a few hours.”

“A few hours? Do you think I’ll have to go to the hospital?”

“No, no. Cuts weren’t that deep. It’s just that the blood...the bandages can only hold so much before we have to replace ‘em.”

“Oh…right.” Castiel held his fingers close to his chest. They felt cold and numb. “Thank you, Dean.”

When Dean kept his mouth shut, Castiel knew he’d messed up. He wrung his fingers nervously, hoping to God Dean actually believed his story—at least the part where he hadn’t meant to do it. That was one of the few truths in there.

“Man, why the hell didn’t you come get me, or at least fix them up yourself??”  

Castiel didn’t look up. He shrugged again. “I didn’t know where you put the first aid kit.”

“That only answers half my question.”

This was embarrassing. This was stupid. Castiel squirmed in place, reluctant to explain. The mere thoughts of his answer threatened to kick the waterworks back on. “I...I didn’t want to bother you, alright? You were having such a good time with Janice, I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I would’ve been an embarrassment. Just a stupid friend who can’t take care of himself. You probably would’ve thought that it was all just some desperate call for attention anyway—”

“Cas…” Dean rolled his eyes at that. “You’re such an idiot.”

“I’m well aware of that already.”

“I mean you’re an idiot for not getting me! You lost a lot of friggin’ blood in there, and you were just...sitting around!  ‘Oh, nothing happened. Don’t worry about it.’ What, did you just hope I wouldn’t notice??”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Dean, I’m sorry!”

“I don’t either! But whatever it was, it wasn’t sane!” That only made Castiel recede into himself even more. Dean took a breath and spoke slowly, “I don’t care what I was doing. Hell, I could’ve been on my way to the moon and it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d be here for you if you needed me.”

“...” Castiel couldn’t utter a word in return. As much as he wanted to believe Dean, his previous actions had proved that statement to be quite inaccurate.

Rubbing his eyes, Dean shook his head and muttered, “I really can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?”

“Two minutes?” Castiel scoffed. “Try five hours.”

Dean had no comment on that, of course. Instead he motioned towards the tent. “Change into somethin’ else, man. And wash yourself off. I can’t look at you with all that blood.”

So Castiel did. He scrubbed his arms and legs with a wet rag. He sorted through his duffel bag until he found one of the sweaters he packed. It was big and soft and warm, the sleeves were far too long, and the color of its fabric had always reminded him of Gabriel’s eyes. Slipping it on, he realized it was a layer of comfort he was in dire need of. Then he climbed into a pair of gray sweatpants with a drawstring beneath his navel and cuffs at his ankles. Dean never failed to mention how girly they made him look, but Castiel liked them just as much as the sweater.

Once he was ready, Castiel emerged from the tent and found Dean still at the table. He didn’t know whether or not to be relieved that he hadn’t taken off again. Apprehensively, Castiel took the spot next to him. Together they remained entirely still for what must’ve been minutes. All the while, the gaping mess Castiel had made in the tent stared him back.

Numbness faded from Castiel’s fingers with time. It felt like a bunch of angry needles prodding and breaking his skin.

Dean cleared his throat. His words were carefully aimed. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before I went over to Jane’s. You stopped me and said you needed to tell me something important. What was it?”

Castiel looked down at his feet. He thought of saying it was nothing, to forget about it, but he knew Dean wouldn’t have any of that now. “I’d rather not talk about it anymore,” he settled on instead. “It’s still important, but it wouldn’t matter. I don’t think it’d make either of us any happier.”

“Try me.”

“You wouldn’t care.”

“Dude.” Scooting closer, Dean sighed. “You’ve been acting weird all day long, obviously something’s bothering you. Why wouldn’t I care?”

“What part of ‘I’d rather not talk about it’ don’t you understand?”

“Oh, I understand that completely. I really do. And that makes me a hypocrite for making you talk about it, but that’s because, hey! Believe it or not, I do in fact care.”

“...I’m just mad at myself, okay??”

“For what?”

“For believing this time would be any different than before.”

“...Okay.” Dean blinked at him. “I’m sorry, but I still have no idea what’s going on. It’d be great if you stopped being so cryptic about it—”

“Oh, would you cut the crap already? You know perfectly well why I’m upset.”

“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

Dean was getting impatient. He just wanted this over with so he could walk away again with a clear conscience. If that hadn’t pushed Castiel over the edge, he didn’t know what could’ve.

“Every time, Dean. You do this every. Single. Time. We make a plan, we decide to spend some time together, but the moment some pretty girl shows up you drop everything and skip right on away. Oh, but if you already have a girlfriend, then she finds her way into our plans and the same thing happens all over again. It doesn’t matter what I want to do or that I’m even there, you become the almighty supreme decisionmaker and things always swing in yours and her favor. I’m always shoved right out of the picture and my presence simply no longer means a thing to you. And since this was our last time hanging out together for who knows how long, for once I let myself think, ‘Huh. Maybe Dean won’t be a complete ass and ditch me this time around. He even outright told me he wouldn’t, so it’s gotta be true!’ But now I see that that was pretty stupid of me.

"And this," Castiel gestured to his bandaged hand. He laughed. "This is what gets you to finally pay attention? Not the dozens of hints and cues I dropped to get you to stop and...and at least recognize that you were just tossing me aside again? That I preferred you at least _try_ to keep your promise and _not_ run off to forget about me and this trip, our trip? No. It had to be this stupid accident. Though you were perfectly capable of picking up on the two Janice effortlessly hooked you with, of course.

“It’s like you think our time together isn’t important. It's like you don't even care. So I don’t know why I even try anymore. I don’t know how I’ve managed to still consider you a friend.”

Dean shook his head and laughed, no amusement in it whatsoever. He mulled Castiel’s words over a moment. He was silent, but his face said it all.

When he did speak, his voice was grating, sharp, but most of all hollow. “That’s a lot, you know. Coming from someone who cancels most of those plans in the first place.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me.”

“How can I not? Wanna really know why I drop everything? Why I think our time together isn’t important? It’s because you make it out to be that way.”

“I never—”

“Just hear me out, Cas:

“Outside of school, you hardly ever made time for me. And when you did, something as small and menial as your little sister’s laundry would get in the way. For a while, that made me cherish every minute I had with you. It took me years, but disappointment after disappointment, I finally came to the conclusion that you spend so little time with me because I don’t matter to you anymore. In the grand scheme of your perfect, elevated, untouchable life, I mean absolutely nothing. So the whole reason I’ve been acting the way you just so politely described, is because I always thought that whatever I did, it wouldn’t matter to you in the slightest.

“I almost didn’t ask you to come on the trip this time. I was so sure you’d cancel last minute like you always do. That, or you’d ‘cancel’ because you never even planned or wanted to come in the first place. This was just one last thing for you to get out of the way, one last pathetic request to fill from your pathetic friend Dean, before your summer ended and you skipped your merry fucking way to college. So you wanna talk about getting tossed aside? Great. Because we can go back and forth on that all day long."

"That's not even—"

"I guess you want me to feel lucky that you’re even here right now. And I do— _did_. But tell me, Cas. I need your permission first. Should I get rightfully pissed at you for calling me a piece of shit who didn't pay enough attention, how dare I, or should I feel lucky? Should I overlook the hypocrisy you've just spewed and instead rejoice at this opportunity to bask in your presence? Bow down and kiss your feet, because you at last decided to follow through this once, out of the hundreds of times I tried! Tell me Cas, is that what I should do! Is that how I should feel!"

“Dean…” Castiel reached out for his shoulder. “You're getting ridiculous."

"Oh, _I_ am?"

"Yes. And you can’t possibly think I never wanted to come here with you. I always did.”

Dean smacked his hand away and rose to his feet. "Fuck you, dude," he muttered, making his way to the tent. "Just fuck you."

Castiel stood to follow, but Dean was having none of it. Castiel was shoved back the second he moved forward. “I never meant for you to think that about yourself. Dean, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, you’re the one who just said we aren’t even friends. For all I care, you can take your damn apology and cram it up your ass. Go fuck yourself with that."

Needles. Tiny, incessant, little needles.

Castiel gave up. He wrung his tingling hand as Dean disappeared into the tent. The door was zipped shut, a clearcut warning to leave him the hell alone. Thinking it best, Castiel plopped back onto the picnic bench and did just that.

Out of everything he’d admitted to Dean, that was the one thing he hadn’t meant. Of course they were still friends, they’d always been friends. Best friends. He was just so damn frustrated, it slipped out...

Now it was all either of them could think about.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was over, wasn’t it? Oh, it was so over.

There were two definitive lines in the dirt where Castiel had been pacing back and forth. He’d been marching along them seamlessly, watching his feet chug along the paths he’d set out for himself. One hand was held behind his back while the other cradled his chin. Only when his glasses threatened to slide off his nose did he alter this stance. Then he had to rustle his hair, pop an ankle, fiddle with his bandages. His entire being would crumble out of the mechanical patterns of his walk and all he could do then was focus on putting himself back together. Because it was just so over.

Whatever “it” was, to hell if Castiel knew. That, or he refused to admit whatever it was to himself. Either way he just knew something between him and Dean had come to an end. A screeching, crashing, burning halt. All because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

Dean was still in the tent. He must’ve been packing. Castiel could hear him rummaging through the mess he made. So maybe it was their trip that was over? Oh god, it’d be such an awkward car ride home. Two hours of complete silence, no doubt. Castiel wasn’t sure he could take that.

Oh well. At least he hadn’t told Dean everything. He couldn’t begin to imagine how much worse that would’ve made it.

Nearly dizzy from all his pacing, Castiel finally parked his ass on the log. His leg immediately started bouncing. It was a nervous tick Gabriel teased him about, though he was sure he wasn’t the only one who did it. He crossed his arms over his stomach. It’d been growling at him for God knows how long now. It made Castiel wish he was a nervous eater.

Janice stopped by once to check if Dean was still alive. She explained that he had only left to grab some food, and that he’d be right back. But that was nearly half an hour ago and she just couldn’t even begin to wonder what happened to him. Not knowing what else to tell her, Castiel jabbed a thumb at the tent and said, “He’s in there.”

“Would it be alright if I went in?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She only stayed a minute. She and Dean spoke hardly above a whisper, and that was fine. Castiel wasn’t trying to listen in on what they were saying anyway. Janice left quietly, and she smiled at Castiel before walking away. He could see right through it; she was disappointed.

They were happy with each other, though. Castiel did feel bad about putting that on hold. Dean would’ve been having a good time with her right about now, if it weren’t for him. Castiel wouldn’t have been particularly enthused about it, but at least one of them would’ve been.

Castiel sighed. He should’ve been happy for Dean all along. Then this whole mess never would’ve started.

“Hey.”

Castiel glanced over his shoulder. Dean was walking towards him. Scratching his neck, he took the spot next to Castiel on the log. He faced the opposite way, towards the tent he’d just walked out of. For a long moment neither of them said or did a thing.

Then at once, both opened their mouths. “ ‘I’m sorry.’ ”

Eye contact was sustained for a brief moment, and Dean decided he’d go first. “Half the crap I said back there...I didn’t mean it.

“I know your entire family pretty much wishes I’d die in a horrible explosion of death, and I know your mom does everything in her power to keep us from hangin’ out. I know that’s made it tough for you to work things out with me. But you try. You’ve always tried, when every other person in your position would’ve given up on me years ago. So I really appreciate that, Cas. I always have. It’s just...me being the idiot I am, sometimes I forget how much crap you gotta go through just to see me.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Castiel said. “And you’re right, I am trying. But I should’ve been trying harder, or at least have told you how much I—...You’re very important to me, Dean, and I never meant to make you think otherwise. You never should’ve had to feel that way to any extent.

“And…” He was going to regret saying this, no doubt about that. But he had to. Dean deserved to hear it. Taking a deep breath, Castiel went on, “You and Janice seem pretty good together. I mean, it’s hardly been a day, I don’t know what you two are talking about, what’s going on exactly. But...if you’re happy hanging out with her, then I suppose I’m happy too.”

Dean smirked, giving him a look over his shoulder. “You suppose?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled back. “I’m trying to be supportive here, alright?”

“Thanks…”

So, that was it then. Their conversation was over. Dean had nothing more to add, it seemed. Castiel suspected he would take his blessing and carry it back to Janice. Then Castiel would go back to his sketchbook and wrap up his drawing. Or eat, at least. Where else could they go from here? Fidgeting in place, he expected Dean to get up and leave any second now.

What he didn’t expect, was for Dean to scoot closer and drop his head on his shoulder.

Castiel froze. His heart rate spiked and his fingers clenched. Wide-eyed, he dared check over his shoulder to make sure Dean hadn’t passed out or something.

Nope. That was very much on purpose. Dean was entirely conscious and he was leaning on him intentionally. Okay.

“I think I’ll stick with you.”

“Why?” Castiel asked with such surprise, it almost sounded like a laugh.

“Because you looked painfully sad just now, forcing yourself to say that. And…” And whatever else Dean had for an answer, he kept it secret.

He cleared his throat. “I cleaned up the tent, by the way. So you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Mind telling me why you tore it apart?”

Castiel shrugged. “I got bored. What was I supposed to do?”

Dean snickered. “That’s my little vandalist.”

Laughing along with him, Castiel assumed it was safe to lean back. If not, well then it wasn’t his fault he was led into believing so. With careful movements, he let his head fall to the side. Dean’s hair tickled the crook of his neck. Castiel reveled in it furtively.

“It’s still too hot to go fishing,” Dean said after a quiet while, “but I’ll definitely take you in a few hours. If you still wanted to, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’d still like to.”

“Awesome.” At that, Dean sat upright. “For now we could just, I don’t know, hang out. You up for another game of Racing Demon?”

“Psh. Only if you’re ready for another brutal asskicking.”

“Oh come on. You’ve never won a single round against me. It’ll be your ass that wipes the ground, not mine.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

With Dean by his side, Castiel migrated to the table and started shuffling his deck. They both tossed more empty threats back and forth, but Castiel was just relieved everything was back to normal.

“So.” He regrouped his cards. “What’s the wager this time?”

“Hm...” Dean already had his hand set up, so he was tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. “You know what? Instead of punishing the loser, I think we should award the winner.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, defeating you in itself is quite the reward, but I say let’s make my victory count for somethin’ this time.”

Castiel scoffed. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking like you’ve already won. It’s an extremely rude and pretentious thing for you to do.”

“Hey, I’m just setting realistic expectations. It’s only healthy.”

“Alright then, fine. What shall be your guaranteed reward? I vote a well-deserved high five. A pat on the back. Oh! How do two enthusiastic thumbs up sound? You’re the winner here, so naturally the choice is yours. It’d only be fair.”

“Those are some compelling offers. However, I think I’ve come up with something a bit more...interesting.”

“Well, by all means! Lay it on me.”

Castiel finished setting up his hand. Only then did Dean continue, “Winner is granted to ask the loser any question he wants, with the one-hundred percent guarantee of an honest answer in return. And just as your punishment in the last game stated, the winner is allowed to ask at any time he so chooses.”

“Interesting indeed,” Castiel mumbled. With that sort of agreement, he could only imagine what Dean wanted to know. Because God, _that_ could get dangerous. “Alright. As long as the question does not interfere with said punishment’s established conditions, it’s a deal.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

With that settled, Dean went ahead and started the first round. Halfway through, and he was already well on his way to winning. Too busy wondering what the hell he had in mind to ask, Castiel had trouble paying any sort of attention to the game. Oh well. It was safe to expect he’d end up losing, anyway.

“Speaking of your punishment,” Dean mentioned casually, “let’s not forget that our trip is already halfway over. Sooner or later, you’re gonna need to get that out of the way.”

Castiel just smiled in return. “When the time comes, Dean,” he promised. “When the time comes.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“...And so Brad and Grey went into their tent to ready for bed, Haley and Tommy doing the same. ‘Goodnight my dear sister,’ Tommy said to Haley, once they were settled in their sleeping bags. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

“ ‘Night loser.’

“Tommy just laughed at his sister, ah-ha-ha-ha! She was a silly one, wasn’t she? Little did he know, those would be the last words they would ever exchange.

“Meanwhile, the Wendigo crept closer and closer to camp, sniffing out the very blood of his next four victims. Oh was he hungry. It had been a long twenty-three years since he last fed, for cryin’ out loud. His tummy rumbled with the rolling thunder above. Closer and closer...then at last! He spotted the dancing flames so conveniently placed in a circle of rocks, a glimmering beacon bright in the night. Ah yes, he was eating good tonight.”

Dean stood from his chair, taking his flashlight with him. He clicked it on, then shone it beneath his chin. Castiel watched in amusement as he circled the fire pit, dramatic and slow with every step he made.

“Grey, rather wired after such a night with his friends, didn’t want to sleep just yet. Neither did Brad for that matter. So they stayed wide awake, chattering and laughing, but did so quietly as to not wake the slumbering siblings. They weren’t quiet enough, however, as the Wendigo was only more enthralled by their musings and whisperings. He liked his prey young and spry, and they sounded like they fit the bill perfectly.

“He scampered between the two tents, footsteps light and quick as air. They all smelled so delicious and ripe for the picking, which should he devour first?

“Grey and Brad, oblivious to the monster lurking just outside their tent, went on with their many manly activities. Like arm wrestling, and talking about how hot Tommy’s sister Haley was, and...and a nice clean round of pattycake. But, just as they finally—you’re laughing. Cas, why are you laughing?”

“Oh, no reason,” he claimed, wiping the corner of his eye. “No reason at all. Please, continue. This story is amazing.”

Dean blinked at him over the flames, then cleared his throat. Snapping back into character, he did as Castiel said. “But! Just as they finally settled down, Brad had to get up and leave, if only just for a minute. Nature was calling.

“Standing amongst the trees, the Wendigo spotted his prey. Ah yes! This, Brad, was it? He would make a fine appetizer. The specimen was kindly seasoning the ground with his piss. How very nice of him! The Wendigo, ever so hungry, forgot his manners and _bam!_ Attacked and scared and ate Brad whole in one swift, sudden movement. The only thing Brad could do about it was scream, right before the lights went out.

“ ‘Brad?’ Grey called out. He was secretly in love with him, of course, so Grey could only tremble in fear at the thought of his baby Brad getting hurt.

“Tommy had jolted awake from his slumber, his fear ripe in his gut from the scream. ‘Grey? What’s going on?’

“But there was no time for Grey to answer, for he was next on the Wendigo’s list. He let out a scream, much like Brad’s, as the hideous beast lunged forward. Spiny teeth and ravaging claws were the only things he saw before the world went black.

“Haley was awake now too, of course. She and Tommy held each other close as the Wendigo pranced around their tent. Their heads spun in circles, helpless to track and predict its erratic maneuvers. What in the hell was that thing? How could it move so fast? What did it want from them? Was it here to punish them for their sins? Steal their lunch money? These questions buzzed through their minds, but they had little hope for ever getting answers. Having enough fun playing with his food, the Wendigo stopped. It was ready for an entree.

“Before Haley could take back calling her brother a loser, before Tommy could tell his sister that he loved her, three razor sharp claws sliced right through their tent wall, and they screamed. _AHHHH!_ No way of escape, Tommy and Haley clung to one another in desperation and fear. This was it. Day Six of Seven on their little trip to Blackwater Ridge. They almost made it. They stared the beast in its horrendous, blood-ridden face. For the final second of their lives, they could’ve sworn the damn thing had smiled.

“Day Six turned into Day Last.

“Thus the story of the Blackwater Ridge Wendigo winds to an end…” At that, Dean clicked off his flashlight. He pointedly glanced about the woods around them. “...Or does it?”

“Wow.” Shifting closer to the fire, Castiel unfolded his arms and smiled up at Dean. “That was certainly something.”

“Ah come on.” Dean settled beside him on the log and picked up his drink from the ground. “I can see the fear in your eyes. That perky little grin won’t fool me.”

Castiel only gave him a look.

“Admit it, you’re scared,” Dean coaxed, nudging his shoulder. “I won’t judge.”

“Yeah. I’m just trembling in fear. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” Sighing rather dramatically, Castiel dipped himself into Dean’s arms. He frantically patted his friend’s sides. “Hold me, Dean! I know you’ll keep me safe from the monster a state and a half away.”

Dean, with every right to, rolled his eyes. “Go screw yourself.”

“I’m terribly frightened, don’t you see? That would be my last choice here.”

“Alright fine! I get it.” Dean shoved him back and turned the other way. “It was a shit story.”

“Aw, that’s not true.” Castiel at least tried being supportive. He wound up laughing instead. “The way you told it was highly entertaining. You have a real gift.”

“Why don’t you try telling a scary story, huh?” Dean dropped the flashlight into his hands. “See how much better you can do.”

“No thanks. Your facial expressions were scary enough.” Castiel shone the flashlight beneath his own chin, mocking Dean with a series of ugly faces. “So I’m good.”

Trying and failing not to look offended, Dean let out a breath and shrugged. “Now you’re just being an ass.”

Castiel giggled. “What else is new?”

“God,” Dean muttered, bringing his soda to his lips, “someone slipped you a happy pill…”

“I’m just enchanted by your wonderful story. How on Earth did you come up with it?”

“Uh, I didn’t. It really happened.”

“Pff. Liar.”

“Am not! I read it in the news once. A group of friends went out camping, and they were never seen again. Only things left were their belongings and a couple torn up tents.”

“Oh,” Castiel nodded. “So naturally, you assumed it was a monster that did it. Not, I don’t know, a bear?”

“It wasn’t me who came up with that either. Damn monsters are real.”

“Keep telling yourself that, alright?”

“I’m serious. You know, I’m ninety-nine percent sure Sam and I saw something weird last time we came up here.”

“Really now.”

“Yeah. Really.”

“What was it then?”

“...You ever hear of Sasquatch?”

“Oh my god,” Castiel snorted. He grabbed Dean’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “That’s just a legend. Monsters aren’t real.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well it’s highly improbable—”

“But you believe in aliens, right?”

“Well, yeah. At least aliens make sense. There’s no way we’re alone in a universe so huge.”

“Then why would we be alone on a planet that’s also pretty big, huh?”

“That’s the thing, Dean. We’re not.” When Dean gave him a challenging look, Castiel went on, “The rest of the animal kingdom, for starters. You know, the ones with fur, the ones without…I just mentioned bears!”

“Alright, alright. Can it, smartass.”

“I’m just saying. Besides, even if Bigfoot was real, aren’t his kind only supposed to exist in the Northwest? Last I checked, we didn’t drive that far.”

Dean shrugged. “Migration, maybe?”

“Yeah, alrighty then.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Not one bit.”

“Fine. Then how about we have ourselves a look-see, huh? Go have that walk in the woods you won’t shut up about.”

Just to be sure they were on the same page, Castiel locked eyes with him again. “You want us to go monster hunting.”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “Once we’re done eating, we’ll arm ourselves with flashlights and head out.”

“Dean. It’s dark.”

“Yeah. Hence the flashlights.”

“...You’re crazy.” Castiel said, but agreed to go all the same. At least he’d get to see the fireflies en masse again.

Castiel popped the last few bites of his dinner in his mouth. Dean had in fact taken them out fishing before sunset, and they each caught sizeable trouts. Dean had himself an absolute catch and release party, while it took Castiel far longer to snag a single fish. One look in its beady little eyes, and he needed Dean to put the flopping thing out of its misery with a rock for him. Dean then walked him through unhooking the fish from the line. He explained that the best way to keep it fresh was to string it through the gills and toss it back in the lake. Castiel had already figured that out though, seeing as Dean had done that to his largest catch a while back. By then it was almost dark, the shore dotted with fiery orange specks. Castiel found himself watching their floating trout being tugged in their wake as they paddled the canoe to land.

Beheading and gutting dinner had been Dean’s job. He decided it best to do it himself, since Castiel had open wounds on his fingers. And heck, Castiel had been perfectly fine with that arrangement. He’d hardly been able to dissect a frog in Biology class without crying; he figured this couldn’t have been any easier. Instead he simply observed, half mesmerized, half disgusted at all the fluids and organs and eggs. Dean tossed it all back in the lake, but not without fake-throwing it at Castiel’s unsuspecting face. And that had been rather uncalled for, if he did say so himself.

Once Dean had a fire going, they slapped the fish on a sheet of foil and cooked them over the flames. That’s when Dean started telling his “spooky campfire stories,” and Castiel was more than happy to hear them.

Sprinkled with mixed seasonings and lemon juice, the trout had turned out delicious. Castiel didn’t think he’d ever eaten something so fresh. It was so good on its own, he was hesitant to try it with the tartar sauce. But eventually he did and it was even better, long as he didn’t add too much. He just had to be careful to eat around the bones. A side of potato chips had complimented it well.

Upon shoveling the last chunk of trout in his mouth, Dean crumbled his plate and napkin and tossed them in the fire. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stood. “We’ll head out whenever you’re ready,” he said, patting Castiel’s head, “just let me take a piss first.”

“Alright. But before you go, promise me one thing.” Dean looked over his shoulder and waited for him to proceed. Castiel tried hiding a smile as he spoke. It didn’t work out so well. “Promise me you won’t get eaten by a Wendigo.”

Dean rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Shut up.”

Laughing, Castiel threw his plate into the fire as well. He searched around the tent, then the car for another flashlight while he waited for Dean to return. He wound up finding one at the bottom of Dean’s backpack, of all places. Not knowing what else to do, he clicked it on and shone it around the trees, testing out its brightness and range. It was a small flashlight, it fit snugly in his hands, but its light reached far. Eventually he roved over a pair of yellow eyes floating in the branches. They spooked him only for a moment, but after pushing his glasses up Castiel realized it was probably an owl. The two held each other’s eyes, Castiel only blinking when necessary. Then the owl flapped its wings and disappeared into the night.

That’s when Dean returned. “What are you doing?” he asked, standing at his side now.

“There was an owl in the tree,” Castiel explained, pointing up. Then he crossed his arms with pride. “We had a staring contest and I won.”

Dean snickered. “Of course you did. That’s your thing.”

Castiel made a face, as if he actually didn’t have a clue what he meant. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar. You’re always staring people down with those big blues of yours.”

“Objection.”

“Dude, we’ve talked about this before. You do it to me all. The time.”

“I’m sorry, does it bother you?”

“No.” Dean went to grab a bucket, but Castiel swore he saw a grin before he turned completely away. “I mean, it’s kinda creepy, I will admit that. But no, it doesn’t bother me. I think I’m just used to it.”

After handing him the bucket, Dean patted Castiel on the back and told him to fetch some water from the lake. Before he could ask why, Dean added, “To put out the fire.” He’d stay behind to make sure it didn’t burn the place down in the meantime.

So Castiel went ahead and trotted towards the lake. He jumped down the sloped ledge at the rim of their site, squeezed through some brush, and took the short walk across shore to water. It being dark, the place was deserted. There was only the chirping of crickets and his shoes grinding in the gravel. All else was silent. The air was perfectly still, the lake before him a vast, impeccable mirror reflecting every star in the sky.

“Whoa.”

He stood there a moment. Gazing at the black ink of the lake and the hills behind, Castiel thought the stars looked closer still. He could reach out and pluck one from the water if he tried. Maybe that’s why he’d enjoyed catching fireflies so much, he mused. It made him feel like he was holding bits of the universe, right in the palm of his hand.

But, he was getting sidetracked. He didn’t wish to disrupt the serenity of the lake, but he dipped the bucket into the water and watched it ripple. Once the bucket was full, the ripples had traveled out and away, tickling the stars as they passed beneath the surface. Then Castiel looked in the bucket; on top sat a star. Maybe he held the universe after all.

Smiling, Castiel turned back towards camp. He was careful not to spill any of the water, and that made his trip back a bit slower than the trip out. Dean was patient though, as Castiel found him leant against Baby with his arms lazily crossed over his chest. He instructed Castiel to pour the water over the flames and any glowing coals. Castiel learned the hard way that smoke was a thing, and he made sure to step aside every few seconds and let it settle. Dean kicked the coals around, and that hardly helped with the smoke. But he was doing it to make sure they got it all.

With only so much water left, Castiel handed the bucket over once all the orange he could see had died out. Certain there was still more, he trusted Dean could take care of the rest better than himself.

Dean emptied the rest of the water for good measure. “Oh crap,” he muttered, dropping the bucket. “We should’ve grabbed the flashlights before this. I can’t see a friggin’ thing.”

Castiel rubbed his eyes. “I think the smoke blinded me.”

“That’s your own damn fault for standing right above it.”

“Are you sure we should go monster hunting? We’re kind of idiots.”

“Hey. Speak for yourself.”

Castiel bumbled around the dark. He only bumped into Dean once, uttering a small apology as he tried stepping around him. His eyes adjusted soon enough however, and it was with relative ease that he spotted his flashlight from the place he’d set it on the table. “Ah ha!” he exclaimed, snatching it up. He clicked it on and waved it about, making swooshing lightsaber noises with his mouth.

“The Force is strong with this one.”

Castiel pretended to strike Dean’s sides repeatedly (sound effects included), specifically with the intent to annoy.

Needless to say, it worked.

Soon as he had a flashlight of his own, Dean whipped around and shone it right in Castiel’s face. “En garde, bitch.”

“Alas! I have been decapitated. Bleh...”

“Damn straight.”

To further his claim, Castiel pulled the collar of his sweater over his head. “By my own true friend, no less.”

“Uh huh,” Dean mumbled. He was walking away.

“How cruel.”

“You asked for it.”

“Now, I die.”

“Oh my god. Shut up and walk with me already.”

Castiel pulled his sweater back down and did as he was told. “You’re no fun,” he pouted, stepping into place beside Dean.

“I’m sorry, am I not twelve-year-old enough for you??”

“Mm. I’d say that was more in the six-year-old range.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “We need to approach this with all seriousness. Because hunting monsters is serious business.”

“Yeah? Well I’m glad we’re armed with flashlights then. Quick Dean, let’s set them from stun to kill. Wouldn’t want to rush into this like a couple of goons.”

“Alright Cassie McSassypants. Let’s say we do run into something.” Now at the edge of the woods, Dean took a moment to stop. “What then?”

“Then we’ll blink ‘em to death,” Castiel declared, flickering his light. “And if not, then you’ll admit that I was right and you were wrong and that Sasquatch was just a big hoax all along.”

“Fair enough,” Dean said, nodding his head. “But in the event that we do, you will admit that _you_ were wrong, and _I_ was right. That you have a closed, ignorant mind to the world around you.”

“Fine—”

“Then you gotta go skinny dipping tomorrow,” Dean threw in, laughing. “Out in the open, at high noon, when everybody’s on the lake.”

“Oh now who’s the twelve-year-old?”

“What, you afraid I’m right?”

Castiel squinted at him. “No. But very well, I’ll accept it. Long as we agree that whoever turns up wrong, whether it be me or you, they are the one who has to go skinny dipping—then it’s a deal.”

“Fine.”

They shook hands on it. Castiel smirked. No way Dean was right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Just give it up, Dean. We’ve been at this for hours.”

“We’re close, I can tell.”

“You’ve been saying that for quite a while now.”

“I mean it this time.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. As wondrous and majestic as the woods had been when they first started, he just couldn’t keep his eyelids open much longer. They’d been traversing in spongy moss so for long, it was beginning to feel like they were hovering, not walking. And it felt normal. His hands were getting cold, their flashlights growing dimmer and dimmer. “You might have to carry me back, by the way,” Castiel yawned, “given you remember the way back. Because I certainly don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I got it. But uh, no. I ain’t carrying you back.”

“Well you’re going to have to if we don’t stop soon. I’m serious. This was fun at first, but now it’s getting old and I’m getting tired.”

“Quit your whining. Just ten more minutes, I swear.”

They hadn’t heard a single thing but each other’s voices and footsteps. Not even the crickets seemed to stick around. Castiel hadn’t seen a single thing but the trees and bushes and thin fog at their ankles. At least there had been the occasional squirrel or batch of fireflies when they first started, but now the woods seemed void of life. Dense as they were, they just felt empty.

Castiel checked his watch. 12:17 AM. “Fine, I’ll humor you for ten more minutes, but that’s it. We’re going back after that.”

“Fine.”

After passing the next couple of trees, Dean stopped. He lifted a finger, carefully glancing about. “Look at that. No fireflies.”

“Yeah, I noticed that a while ago.”

“Know what that means?”

“It means we’ve gone too damn far.”

Dean shook his head and grinned. “It means he’s near.”

“Where’d you get that from?”

“From experience, duh. Same thing happened when Sam and I—”

 _Crack_.

Both glanced to the left, pointing their flashlights that direction. The snapping of a branch echoed, distant footsteps marched through a pile of leaves. Only the nearest trees illuminated by their lights, Castiel stared down the darkened path. It wasn’t until then that he had his first inkling something might be staring back.

That put another smile on Dean’s face. Without a word he led the way, cautious not to make too much noise.

“It’s probably just a—”

“Sh.”

Castiel sighed. It was just too dark. Their flashlights were starting to die out. The moon and stars were almost entirely blocked by the trees. He could hardly see much of anything anyway, with Dean right in front of him. But honestly, if they were really hoping to _see_ something here, then they were out of luck at this point.

He followed Dean close. The cool air seeped beneath his sweater, and he shivered. He crossed an arm over his waist, but of course it didn’t do much to help. He almost asked Dean for his jacket, but then he remembered Dean needed to stay warm too. Not to mention, he probably would’ve been told to shut up before he could finish asking. So, tolerating the cool air for now, Castiel rubbed an arm and kept walking.

He was too busy pointing his flashlight up at the trees to notice when Dean stopped again. That, of course, led to Castiel right into his back. Stumbling forward, Dean cursed. He turned around, shooting Castiel a look that read as ‘Really?’

“Sorry,” Castiel whispered, stepping back. “It’s too dark.”

Dean faced forward again and stood still. They both listened for any sign of life other than each other. For a long moment, there was nothing. Then more footsteps, dragging heavy and long. It was to their right this time.

Castiel took a step in that direction, expecting Dean to do the same. But he didn’t. Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction instead. “Where are you going?”

“It was over that way, I don’t know, I thought we were following it.”

“We are following it. And it was this way.”

“Are you deaf? I know it was—”

 _Crack_.

They both shut up. It was closer, no doubt. There was less of an echo. Instead of a branch, it sounded more like a snapping bone this time around.

Then their flashlights went out.

“Shit,” Dean hissed. Instincts kicked in, and Castiel suddenly found himself huddling closer to Dean’s side. He could feel Dean trying to shake his flashlight back to life. “Son of a bitch…”

More footsteps. _Thump...thump_. Just two at a time, slow and heavy. Castiel swore they were circling behind, but as soon as Dean had his flashlight working again, he was getting dragged forward. But to be entirely honest here, Castiel was glad they seemed to be moving away from whatever the hell it was.

“Mine still isn’t working,” Castiel informed, as if it mattered. Long as one light was working, that was freaking fine by him.

“Just stay close.” Dean lifted his arm out a smidge, a clear invitation for Castiel to grab it and wrap himself around tight. He wasn’t going to say no.

Oh, what was he doing? Castiel wasn’t scared. Surely it was somebody who’d seen them wander stupidly into the woods and was just making sure they were still okay. And the fact that they were still following them wasn’t creepy at all. Yeah. Certainly it wasn’t a crazed killer with an axe or knife or machete or all of the above. That would be monster enough for him.

“No fuckin’ way...”

That’s when Castiel realized he’d buried his face in his friend’s shoulder. He looked up. Out before them was some sort of primitive keep, a dome made of spindly branches in one corner, a pile of stripped fur in another. Some sort of...mucous, covered the tree trunks? The way it shone white and blue in their light, how thick and viscous it was? Yeah. That definitely wasn’t sap.

Suddenly it seemed the night carried its own ethereal glow. Castiel covered his nose—God, the smell creeped up on him. He stepped away and tried to focus on something else. But by the looks of it, other things around here just weren’t that much better. The air was colder. Wetter. Mysterious forces creaked in the distance. The newfound spores floating about couldn’t have been a good sign. That couldn’t have been a good sign at all.

“Dean? Am I going crazy, or are we somewhere...different?”

“Sh.”

Castiel decided to listen to him, but only because there was solid reasoning to. Because his line of sight roved over the piles again, and he swore that was a shred of green cloth buried in there somewhere. Because there was no way that was a leaf. The leaves weren’t that big around here. They were shinier, too.

And usually a lot less caked in blood. Dark, splotched, rotted blood.

 _Okay. This was proof enough. You were right Dean. Happy? Now let’s get out of here._ Castiel would’ve spoken up, if it weren’t for the hairs standing up on his neck. For his doubled heart rate and blood pressure.  For the lump balling up in his throat. Something was severely wrong. They ventured off into a place they never should’ve, and they needed to leave. Now.

Dean took a number of steps forward. Castiel stayed planted where he was. “Cas, we’re fine. Come on.”

“This better not be another one of your pranks, or I swear to God Himself. I am never. Talking to you again.”

“What, you think I got enough free time to come out here and—” His flashlight went out again. “Damn it,” Dean sighed. “I just replaced the batteries. They’re supposed to last days. Cheap crap.”

Castiel groaned and dug his face back into Dean’s shoulder. Without telling himself to, he reached for his hand. Dean let him take it. He repeatedly clicked the button of his flashlight with the other, praying it’d work with every try. “I’d like to leave now.”

“Aw. But we haven’t seen the sucker yet.”

Castiel very nearly yelled at him for how stupid he sounded just there. Instead, he tightened his hand and whispered crossly. “Dean. You know those morons in horror movies who get themselves killed walking _towards_ the danger? Well newsflash! That’s us right now! And we’ve seen enough, okay?? Please, let’s just get the hell out of here already—”

 _Crack_.

Castiel tensed. That was feet behind them. The footsteps were clear as day, shifting left and right, left and right until they finally settled smack in the middle. It was stalking them, studying them, catching their scent. It was inching closer and closer. A low, deep growl sounded, and Castiel’s stomach dropped. He could feel its breaths trail with the wind.

Right down his fucking neck.

Castiel swallowed. He was practically breaking Dean’s hand at this point. Wide-eyed and ever so slowly, he dared turn around. Hand trembling, he lifted his flashlight and tried the button one last time. To his surprise it worked.

But God, he really wished it hadn’t.

He screamed. “Holy shit! What the _fuck_ is that!”

Dean jolted beside him. “I don’t know!”

“What do we do!”

_“Run!"_

They tripped over one another before they gained any sense of direction. Castiel felt the distinct clutch of Dean’s hand folding back around his, and they tugged on each other by the arm. Dean wasted no time in stealing the flashlight out of Castiel’s other hand. He took the lead and they finally took off. Dean was already sprinting fast, and Castiel had no choice but to catch up. With the moss and roots and otherwise uneven ground, they spent a lot longer figuring out any sort of rhythm than they should’ve. But at last they reached synchronized paces and heartbeats and everything at once clicked in place. They were running through the woods as one, and they were ahead of the monster.

How Dean was able to navigate their way between the trees in nothing flat and continue to do so was an absolute mystery. Everything flew by in such a jagged blur. But Castiel trusted him not to lead them straight into any tree trunks or bushes nonetheless. He was getting them through so far.

Castiel didn’t need to look back to know that the thing was chasing them. How close it was, he didn’t want to find out. Hell, he didn’t need to hear it either. Suddenly there weren’t any more pounding, inhuman footsteps. Suddenly there wasn’t a single disturbance in the woods but themselves. But he _knew_. He felt it. It was in his head. It was in front of them. It was waiting to jump out of the shadows and drag them back. Castiel had no trouble sensing that. No trouble at all.

Because that was no Bigfoot, oh no. That was something else entirely.

It let out a starving cry, suddenly just behind their feet. Castiel screamed, wanting nothing more than to sprout a pair of wings and fly to safety. But no. He was stuck with legs. Stuck with lungs he should’ve pushed harder in gym class. Fuck, it just always had to come to gym class didn’t it??

The thing screeched again, that...that mouth of a face surely gaping wide open. Those dozens of spiny teeth just so ready to sink in. Those claws slashing out like pointed branches in the trees.

“Fuck off!” Dean yelled back at it. “You doin’ okay, Cas?”

“No,” he cried out, already on the brink of some serious tears. “I’m kind of regretting a lot of decisions right now!”

“We’re gonna be—”

“I’m kind of freaking out here!!”

“Cas, we’re gonna be fine!”

“No we’re no-ot! Oh my god!”

“Jesus, will you keep it together?”

“Shut up! I hate you! _I fucking hate you! Run! Just run!!_ ”

“I’m runnin’ fast as I can, alright!”

“Well run faster!! Damn thing’s right on my—”

“Shit! Left, _left! We’re going left!”_

Before Castiel could make any sense of it, Dean yanked him to the left. Why, he didn’t know. But he wasn’t expecting the ground to disappear out from under him. There was a rush of cursing and scrambling and panicked screaming. At the end of it, all Castiel knew was that Dean had tucked him close, and that they were falling.

They tumbled down a slope. Castiel felt his back take the fall on at least three rapid successions, and after that he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was bury himself in Dean’s chest and flinch. Everything plummeted out of control, and just as soon as it started, it stopped. They hit flat ground hard, and Castiel was ejected right out of Dean’s arms.

Everything was jarringly still, but his head was spinning. He couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes, and it was all just a blurry mess. Everything was dark, but by some miracle he managed to distinguish the hill they’d just fallen off of from all else. Up top stood the beast, its silhouette an unnatural protrusion of the Earth. Castiel _couldn’t breathe_. The thing stood a second more, towering far above him. Monitoring him. Then it turned and ran, disappearing over the bank of the hill.

At last Castiel sucked in a breath. His lungs rejected it immediately, sending him in a coughing fit that put bronchitis to shame. Groaning, he lifted a hand to the side of his thrashing head. His fingers retreated wet. At first he panicked, thinking it blood. Then he realized he felt it all over. They landed in a shallow stream.

When he could, Castiel sat upright. It only took a moment of blind searching, thank God, but he was able to find his glasses in the mud. He dipped them into the water to rid of any muck, dried it off with the front of his sweater, and slipped them back on.

The night was dark. The air was clear. That smell was gone. Castiel just about broke down in relief.

Dean groaned beside him. “We gotta move,” he muttered, still flat on the ground.

“I saw it run away. We’re fine now. Well, as fine as we can be...”

“It might come back.”

“Jesus, Dean. You sound terrible.” After crawling onto to the dirt and mud, Castiel sat on his knees. He lifted Dean’s head out of the water and gently placed him in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“ ‘Bout as good as I sound. You?”

“I’m fine. Anything broken?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Good. Can you move all your limbs?”

“Uh huh.”

“Show me.”

He hesitated at first, but Dean eventually lifted his feet and waved his hands in the jazz-like manner. “Need me to flex my fifth limb too?”

“No.”

“Because I totally could..." At that he spread his legs. "If you needed me to.”

Castiel gave him a look. Slowly he shut those knees closed. “That won’t be necessary, Dean. I trust you’ll figure out whether that still works on your own time.”

“Hey. On second thought, could you do it for me instead? It’s best to make sure, after all, but my hands are awfully cold…they’ll warm up eventually.” He winked. “Then it’ll be your turn.”

“Alright, someone hit his head a bit too hard. Now tell me.” He flipped Dean the bird. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Enough to make me one happy guy,” Dean said. Then he had the audacity to smirk.

“That’s stretching it a bit far, don’t you think?”

“God, I friggin’ hope so.”

Castiel blinked. “...Yeah, no. I’d rather kill you in your sleep tonight. Thanks for the golden opportunity, though.”

“Eh. Worth a shot.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Laughing softly, Dean blinked his; they were filled with pain. “You know. As pillowy and grand as your upper thighs are right now, we gotta move.”

“Then get up.”

With a groan, Dean did as he was told. Castiel rose to his feet first so he could help Dean to his. “Have any idea where we are?” he asked, glancing around.

“No,” Dean moped, rifling through his pockets. “But my handy-dandy compass m—nope. Nevermind. It’s cracked.”

He shot Castiel a look. “Shit.”

“Wait,” Castiel said, taking it from his hand. The glass was chipped, most if not all the fluid gone. It was beyond repair. “You had a compass this whole time?”

“What do you think I am, stupid? Of course I had one.”

“I just thought you knew the area well.”

“It’s the freaking woods, Cas! No one except the thing that chased us down here knows the area well. So yeah. I have no clue where we are.”

“Oh.” Puffing his cheeks, Castiel handed the broken compass back. “Well that can’t be good.”

“No it cannot.”

Dean paced a moment, then he froze. He pointed at the water. “This might lead us to the river, and that would take us to the lake. Whichever direction we follow would depend on if its tributary or not, and that we don’t know. So that’s a problem. But I’d say our best shot’s following it upstream. There’s only two rivers that lead into the lake, and they branch out more than they branch in on this side.”

“Oh. That’s smart.”

“Don’t patronize me, it’s just common sense.”

Well, Castiel never would’ve thought of that. Not in the mood to argue though, he let it slide. “I guess we’re pretty lucky we ended up here then. We’ll follow the stream back.”

“Yeah, if everything I said about it is even a thing. Which very well may not be the case,” Dean went on, going out of his way to kick up the water. “And this stream’s so friggin’ shallow and small and slow, how are we supposed to tell which way it’s even flowing??”

“Let’s just think back a minute, okay? Before we ran off, you said you still knew the way back. We came from that direction, then wound up down here. Think you can trace it back to where you did know?”

“We probably ran in so many circles, I…” Dean shook his head. “If we came from that direction, then we should go back in that direction. But we also probably shouldn’t since that thing is up there. So…” he scratched his head a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. What about you, huh? Got any brilliant ideas?”

Their one remaining flashlight sat on the bank of the hill, its beam pointing towards the stream. Dean took the time to walk over and pick it up while Castiel devised a plan.

“Well…” he began, “if I could keep track of Polaris, this would be a piece of cake. I remember it being directly on the other side of the lake from our site, and we started out by going in the exact opposite direction. As long as we’re still on the same side of the lake we started out on, we’d just have to walk towards it. I know its latitude is approximately...there.” Castiel stuck his thumb out towards the sky. “With everything lined up like that, it’d actually be extremely convenient. But there’s so many trees in the way now, it’s hard to make out anything up there in the first place. Otherwise I would’ve known exactly where we’ve been going at any given point.”

“What about the moon? It’s right there. Easy.”

“The moon moves on a path different than the stars. And for the amount of time we’ll be out here, we’re not counting on her for anything. Polaris, on the other hand, hardly moves at all. That’s why it could be used as a reliable guide. But let’s say we do locate it. If we’ve already walked too far east or west, then we’d miss the lake completely and walk right past without even knowing it.”

“No, we’ve been facin’ south from the start—up until we were chased, anyway. I made sure of that.”

“Good, that’s good. And we didn’t run all too far at the end there. That shouldn’t have thrown us off by much.”

“Right.” Dean sighed. “So...we either follow the stream of destiny or chase a tiny dot in the sky. Then we die tryin’. Awesome.”

“Okay, how about we forget that last part and do both? You choose which direction we follow the stream. Sounds like there’s a fifty-fifty chance it’ll lead us back to the main river, and those odds are significantly better than heading in any other direction. I trust you’ll pick the right one, but if not then I won’t blame you. I’ll try piecing the sky together as we walk, keep an eye out for Polaris. It’ll be no trouble knowing for certain which way to go once I find it. That’s a start, and it’s bound to get us somewhere. I have a feeling the monster isn’t going to cross this stream, but like you said. We better get moving anyway.”

That seemed to convince him for the time being. Good. Dean didn’t need to start getting frustrated and blame himself already. That’d just make both of them upset.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel a hundred times better about this than I did five minutes ago,” Castiel mentioned. “For now, I’m just happy we didn’t break any bones or die. And we have a plan now. So we’re going to be alright, Dean.”

Dean nodded. He crouched down, staring the miniature creek down as he thought it through. “That way,” he said, pointing to the right. “We’ll go that way for now.”

“Okay.” At that, they started walking.

The sky was so muddled in branches and leaves, it was damn near impossible to map out any constellation, let alone find one specific star. But it was the North Star, and it was one of the brighter stars. Certainly it would stick out like a sore thumb once it decided to show. Meanwhile, Castiel kept track of the fragments of sky he could see. He tried to, anyway. He and Dean walked forward, and their view of the sky would shift with their altering perspective, not to mention with time as well. From this Castiel deduced that the same stars he’d relied on for so much of his life held their positions tonight as good as jumbled, malleable puzzle pieces. Ever so slowly the big picture would come into view though, he was sure of it. There was barely a progress, but it was a progress Castiel was willing to make.

Everything was quiet again. They’d both been keeping an ear out for strange or approaching footsteps, but none came. The fireflies started making occasional appearances again. Castiel decided to take that as a good sign.

“Um…Dean?” he spoke up. It was the first time either had exchanged a word since they started walking again.

“Yeah?”

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. “Can I...would it be alright if I held your arm again? It’d be much easier to look up while I walked, if I had you guiding me.”

Dean let them advance a few yards before responding. “Go for it,” he said, reaching out.

Castiel timidly wrapped his arms around. “Thank you.”

“Yeah whatever. Just don’t make it weird.”

“You saying that automatically makes it weird.”

“Shut up and walk with me.”

Castiel giggled. “But I am walking with you.”

“Then shut up.”

Castiel did as he was told, but secretly grinned while doing so. The dark turned out good for one thing: hiding his blush. They went on, and Dean let him know when there were any rocks at their feet that he needed to look out for. Castiel tried not to crowd him too much, but that became rather difficult as Dean drew his arm closer and closer to his side. Before too long they damn near tripped over one another, Castiel fixed on the sky as Dean continually scanned the ground below.

Eventually they wound up holding hands. Only because it was more practical than holding arms, of course.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were almost there, Castiel just knew it.

When he finally pieced it together, Castiel found Polaris roughly sixty degrees to the right. It took some help from the Big Dipper, and the trees had to open up enough for him to see it clearly, but he found it. Polaris wasn’t too far off from where they’d been heading anyway, and that meant Dean had them walking northwest. That had been great news. They gladly changed course, climbing up and out of the damn trench they’d been stuck in. Castiel took the lead and they’d been making a beeline for the North Star for what felt like ages now. The trees weren’t so thick, the fireflies were back, and Castiel just knew it. The monster was long gone, and they were almost back to camp.

But he was wrong.

Well, he was only wrong about one thing. But of course it had to be the one thing he wished he hadn’t been wrong about most. Because here he and Dean were, running for their lives like the freaking morons they were. Again.

“Holy crap! I see it, I see the lake! We’re almost there!” Dean exclaimed. He took the lead again, holding Castiel by the wrist as he darted forward. Though the trees were far more spaced out at this point, they had to stick together like this. It was still crazy dark, and they still had just one flashlight. It would be insane to run through this blindly.

Luckily, Castiel heard the damn thing charging from a distance, so thank God they had a head start. That didn’t mean it wasn’t gaining on them, oh no. And that certainly didn’t mean they weren’t sprinting their fastest to get the hell away from it. Last time it had gotten way too close. No way they were letting it get anywhere near that—

“Agh!” Castiel tripped forward. Gravity kicked in and his hand slipped right out of Dean’s. Before he could even rationalize that his foot had caught on a root, his face already smacked into the ground and everything was all too abruptly still.

“Cas!” Feet scampered back to him, and in no time flat Dean had him back on his own. “You clumsy son of a bitch!”

Castiel would’ve said something equally as clever in return, but he had to focus on breathing. The wind was still knocked out of him, and they were already running full speed ahead. Bolts of pain shot up his ankle and his head throbbed. The monster was only closer and closer but they were _almost there._ As long as he could feel Dean’s hand strangling his and listen for his yelling, they could make it.

Well, maybe one of them could.

“C’mon man, quit limping! Pick it up!

“Don’t drop out on me now!

“I ain’t leavin’ you behind man, I need you!

“Dammit Cas! You better thank me!”

Dean’s fingers tightened. Castiel was thrown ahead and his feet stopped touching the ground. An arm threaded under his knees while another cradled his back. Dean was carrying him, and that came as more of a shock than discovering that monsters did in fact exist.

Castiel linked his arms around Dean’s neck. He could smell the monster’s rotten breath. He could hear its teeth and mouth snap ravenously for them. He could feel his own heart pound in his chest, and right then and there he decided to hold onto that as much as he could. The monster was feet behind them, and Castiel tucked his chin in Dean’s shoulder and prayed for the best.

Then it stopped. Dean crossed the threshold, and the damn thing halted. Closing its mouth slow, its gangly figure shrunk back behind the trees and disappeared.

They were heading down a gravel road now. They made it. They were safe.

“Dean,” Castiel mumbled into his neck. “It’s gone. We’re safe now.”

That slowed him down some, but it didn’t make him stop. It didn’t make him set Castiel down either. Instead he continued running, drawing Castiel closer to his chest as the moon lit their path.

It took every ounce of willpower not to kiss him right then and there. Right on his pursed, valiant, life-saving lips. _God, I love you._

Eventually Dean slowed to a walking pace. They were back at their site at last. “In the car,” he demanded, lowering Castiel to his feet. “Now.”

Castiel didn’t argue. He hobbled on over to the passenger side and crawled in. After shutting the door, he looked over to check on Dean. He wasn’t doing so well.

“Cas…” he managed between breaths. “What ever happened to you being a scrawny little twig, huh? Because my god, you need to lose some weight.”

“I do not. I’m in excellent shape.”

“Do to. ‘Bout a hundred pounds should do it. You friggin’ fatty...”

“I didn’t ask you to carry me, you know.”

“Yeah? Well it saved your damn life. So you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” Castiel wished he’d said that in the first place. Then Dean would know he actually meant it.

They sat in silence as Dean regained control of his breathing. Despite his protests, Castiel opened the door and went to grab him a water. The bottle was emptied before Castiel even settled back in.

“Dean?”

“What.”

“...Do I really have to go skinny dipping tomorrow?”

Dean froze, giving him a look. “Really?” he questioned. “We just about turned into some monster’s late night snack, and you’re worried about our stupid bet?”

“Of course I am! Have you seen how many children there are at this campground? I can’t expose myself to them.”

Castiel all but pouted, and Dean couldn’t help break out in laughter. He smacked the steering wheel with a fist, nearly doubling in on himself. Car keys in hand, he flicked the engine on and offered a look of sympathy. “Don’t ever change.”

Castiel frowned at him for laughing. “So was that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no?’ ”

“You know, I think running for your life was punishment enough. You’re off the hook on that one.”

Castiel let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Dean shifted the car in gear and peeled out of the site. They clicked on their seatbelts and Dean flipped on the radio. T. Rex was playing. The volume was cranked loud, the windows were rolled down, and the engine roared. After ruffling Castiel’s hair, Dean stepped on the gas and let the clutch go.

“Let’s get the hell outta here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hold this for me, will ya?”

“It isn’t going to explode is it?”

“No, no. You don’t have to worry about that just yet.”

“ ‘Just yet?’ ”

“Well I gotta light it first, dumbass.”

Castiel shot Dean a skeptical look as he was handed a colorful tube. 10 BALL ROMAN CANDLE, it read. “I can’t walk, Dean. So might I ask why is this in my possession? Shouldn’t we put this on the ground somewhere? And shouldn’t you wait to light it when it’s—oh, great. You’re lighting it now. Okay.”

Smirking, Dean stuck the flame of his lighter to its end. Sparks fizzled out, and he made sure he stepped to the side. Then he strolled on over to the box and began sifting through the remainder of their fireworks for the night. “Hang on, alright? I’ll be back for that in a sec.”

“Uh.”

“You’ll be fine. Just keep it pointed away from your face.”

“I’m going to throw it.”

“That’s about the third dumbest thing you could do right now, so I suggest you do as I said and—”

“I threw it.”

“Cas! Oh my god…”

The thing shot out a fireball soon as it hit the ground. It coughed out another. “Wow,” Dean said, sliding his hands in his pockets. Castiel leant back on his palms and tilted his head to the side. They watched eight more fireballs skid across the dirt. Then it stopped.

“Wanna know why I parked here, in the only section of this giant field without grass?” Dean nodded towards the emptied tube. “That’s why. And you’re lucky that ended up facing away from us. So nice work, man. Real nice.”

“What else was I supposed to do?? You put an explosive in my hand, light it, and expect me not to throw it?”

“It’s a roman candle! You’re supposed to hold it.”

“Really.”

“Well, no. But people do it anyway.”

“Well, that sounds rather unintelligent.”

“Bite me.”

_Careful what you wish for there, Dean._

Castiel made face. The next song on Dean’s Metallica cassette started playing, so Castiel bobbed his head to that. He was sitting on the hood of the Impala with his legs dangling over the grill. All except the raisins in his trail mix supply had been depleted a while ago (he could thank Dean for that), so he was snacking on a bag of cheese doodles in place. The sky was still muddled in smoke, so he guessed Dean would continue messing with “handheld” fireworks for the time being.

He was proven correct when Dean waltzed over with an armful of poppers and sparklers and snaps. “Let’s try this again,” he said, dropping another roman candle in Castiel’s lap. He dumped the rest on the hood and hopped up to the empty spot at Castiel’s side.

“Try to blow me up once, shame on you.” Despite his reluctance, Castiel picked up the candle. “Try it twice? I’ll agree to it and see what all the fuss is about.”

Dean laughed and flicked his lighter. It caught spark the third time he tried. He cupped Castiel’s hand and outstretched his arm. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. You gonna throw it this time?”

“Yes.”

“Good—wait, no. Cas. Cas!” Before he could reel back too far, Dean forced his hand back in place. The first fireball had shot straight above their heads. “You’re an idiot.”

Grinning, Castiel apologized and promised he wouldn’t do it again. Dean didn’t trust him in the slightest, so he maintained his restraint. Satisfied, Castiel turned his attention to the candle. Each fireball shot out a different color, one green, another blue, and the last pink. They were all pretty and bright against the darkness of the hour. Castiel liked hearing them fizzle as they faded out as quickly they’d appeared. He had to admit, it made him a bit giddy to hold an explosive as it was firing off.

When it stopped, he asked, “Is it done? I wasn’t counting.”

“Yeah it’s done.” That’s when Dean set off a popper, and it made Castiel jump only a hair. Confetti floated down past their knees and through the dusty beams of the headlights. “So how did it feel, committing your first ever illegal act? I thought it called for celebration.”

“First ever? You don’t know that.” Castiel teased, picking up a sparkler.

“Oh really?” Dean’s eyebrows lifted. “You wouldn’t mind sharing with the class, would you?”

Castiel reached the sparkler over to him. He didn’t start explaining until it was lit. “Just last month, Ed, Harry and I each popped six blotters of LSD under our tongues and graffitied our hallucinations onto the side of a public library.”

Dean blinked at him. “Really.”

In all feigned seriousness, Castiel nodded.

“You’d be dead.”

“Mine turned out a naked woman with glowing blue skin, riding a purple narwhal off into the flames of hell. There was a bunch more shit going on, she had these crazy tattoos snaking up her arms and out of her shoulders, the narwhal had a deli sandwich impaled on its horn...but that’s the gist of it.”

Dean blinked at him again. “...Really.”

“I’ve also shanked a man,” Castiel went on, nonchalant. “In the alleyway across from the farmer’s market downtown.”

“Yeah? What’d the poor guy do to you?”

“He looked at me funny.”

Despite his apparent doubt, Dean nodded, “Well. Color me impressed.” He grabbed a box of snaps and tore it open. “And here I thought the craziest thing you’d ever do was hunt monsters with me.”

“Oh, don’t look so upset, Dean. That ranks pretty high up there too.”

“God, that was insane.” Dean dumped the entire box of paper snaps into his palm. He started chucking them at the ground. “I didn’t think we’d get freakin’ chased by the damn thing. I don’t even know what it was. Do you?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my father’s mythology collection. And I’ve read those books front to back.”

Castiel’s sparkler went out. Dean transferred half of what was left of the snaps to his hand. They cracked and flashed as they struck the dirt. Castiel thought they were rather pathetic and cute, compared to the rockets Dean blasted off earlier.

“We should name it,” Dean said after a while. “The monster.”

“Alright. What should we name it?”

“Mm…” Looking around, Dean thought a moment. Castiel followed his gaze to their pile of bagged and plastic-wrapped snacks. Then Dean pointed. “Cheese Doodle. We’ll call it the Cheese Doodle.”

Castiel frowned at him. “Why would we do that?”

Dean shrugged. “Because it’s silly and ridiculous? Helps take the edge off.”

Castiel laughed. “Well. I suppose ‘Cheese Doodle’ does take away from its otherwise horrid...and nightmare-inducing...everything.”

“Then it’s settled. Cheese Doodle it is.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He was suddenly hungry for more cheese doodles. Reaching to grab some, he said, “I worry for your future child’s namesake.”

“Got any better ideas?”

“No.”

“Then shut your friggin’ mouth.”

Castiel grinned. The night air was cool. Rubbing his arms, he used that as an excuse and scooted closer to Dean. Their thighs touched, and neither of them bothered to fix that. Without asking for it, Dean removed his jacket and draped it over Castiel’s shoulders. He lit the rest of the sparklers at once, handing them over like a bouquet of fiery perennials.

“There. That should warm you up some.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. And don’t catch yourself on fire. Or my jacket.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I _won’t_ , Dean.”

Castiel held the sparklers over the edge of the hood and away from any flammables, careful not to test Dean’s threat there. He gently waved them side to side, their cumulative glow painful to the eye against such darkness. But they were beautiful nonetheless, and Castiel cherished their light.

They looked what it felt like to fall in love.

Then one by one, the sparklers shrunk and phased out into nothingness. The light was gone, and what remained were just oversized toothpicks bunched between his fingers. Well that was disappointing, Castiel thought. They ran out far too soon. On top of that there was a hindering glare following his gaze. It got in the way as he tried seeing Dean behind the black cloak of night.

“Those were pretty,” Castiel said. Because he couldn’t think of anything better.

“Yeah, they were...”

Dean took the dead sparklers from his hand and stood. “Sky’s about cleared up. Wanna help me set up the Big Finale?”

Castiel stole a short glance at the sky; the thick cloud of smoke had hardly budged.

“Sure.”

Dean went to grab the box of fireworks, and Castiel slipped his jacket fully on. He dropped to his feet, cautious in resting any weight on his right ankle. It wasn’t sprained, thank goodness, but he’d twisted it hard enough for the pain to linger this long. He took three limping steps forward. Dean made sure he took no more on his own. Carrying the box under one arm, he wrapped the other under Castiel’s shoulder and let him lean as much as he needed to. Okay, as much as he _wanted_ to.

They walked out towards the middle of the field. “You sure’ve gotten beat up a lot,” Dean mentioned.

“Yes, I’ve recognized the pattern myself,” Castiel reluctantly agreed. “It’s all God punishing me, I’m sure.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first it was my neck. Then my shoulder, the sunburn on my shoulders. The splinter—that was nothing to cry over, so that probably doesn’t count for much—the cuts on my fingers, and now my ankle.” Castiel resituated his arm over Dean’s shoulders. It had been slipping. “The injuries were successively distributed from top to bottom. That’s no coincidence, mind you. I expect broken toes by the end of tomorrow.”

“Alright then. And what do you suppose you’re being punished for?”

“For lying to my mother, obviously. If you recall, I was never supposed to come here with you. She’s said that being a disobedient son should strike the fear of God in my heart. And she’s said that on multiple, multiple occasions. So it must be true.”

“Oh.” They took a few quiet steps, Dean leading each one. “Guess it finally worked then, huh?”

“Of course not,” Castiel said. “I don’t fear Him, I’ve accepted Him. In fact we’ve accepted each other. It’s just my mother who’ll have to approve of me and my rebellious ways someday.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Because you’re such a rebel. How dare you spend quality time with your friend!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Despite the physical pain, he was almost glad he’d return home looking like he’d been dropped in a blender. _That’s right, ma. We did stupid, reckless crap and I got beat up. What’re you gonna do about it now, beat me up some more?_

“Ah ha,” Dean rang as they approached the pile of emptied firework shells. They stopped, and Castiel unraveled their shoulders so they could start setting up.

Dean had him remove the plastic wrapping on each shell before setting them firmly in the dirt. He placed them in circle, encompassing them both within. There were five shells total, all of which had a number exceeding “20” printed somewhere on the wrapping.

“We’re really setting these off all at once?” Castiel asked, handing Dean the last one.

“Duh. I’m not calling it the ‘Big Finale’ for nothin’.”

“If we get arrested, then I’m blaming you for everything.”

“Trust me, Cas. If we were getting arrested tonight then it would’ve happened by now. Besides,” Dean searched his pockets, “you couldn’t blame me for anything.”

“Why not?” Castiel frowned as Dean dropped something in his palm. He only frowned more once he realized what it was.

“Because you’re the one lighting ‘em.”

“Uh.” Castiel tried handing the lighter over, but Dean gave it right back. “I don’t think so. You’re the pyrotechnician here, with your past experience and fully functional ankles and whatnot.”

“Ah, c’mon. Live a little.”

“I am living. And I’d like to continue that trend, thank you. So why don’t you light them?”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“But Deeeaaan...”

“Look, it’s easy: all you gotta do is light the fuses fast as you can, then run in the opposite direction. I’ll help you with the running part, but that’s it.”

“No.”

“You’ll get bragging rights.”

“Nope.”

“You can tell your mom all about it when you get home. She’ll love it.”

“Nuh uh.”

“C’mon. Please?”

“I refuse.”

“I’ll give you a kiss.”

“For the last time, I said—”

Wait. What?

Castiel shot Dean an incredulous glare. Then he pointedly crossed his arms. “Well in that case,” he continued as dryly as he could possibly muster, “sign me up.”

And Dean? He just stepped out of the circle and laughed. “Then what are you standing around for? Your destiny awaits.”

 _Destiny my ass._ If only to stop Dean from saying anything else that would deepen his blush, Castiel let out a huff of air and flicked on the lighter.

“You’re paying for my funeral.”

Best as he could, Castiel knelt down. The glare from the sparklers was still all too present, so he had to lean in closer than he would’ve liked. Oh well. At least Dean had arranged the fuses in a convenient little circle. All the more easier to blow himself up. Castiel nudged his glasses in place, and in one swift movement, he guided the flame from one fuse to the next. They all sparked to life. He rose to his feet, doing his best to ignore the fact that he was standing in a ring of initiated explosives.

Oh god. How did Dean talk him into this?

“The hell are you doing??”

Castiel looked up. Before he could give much of an answer, a hand clutched around his wrist and dragged him out. He whined about his ankle and limped lamely all for two seconds, then an arm snaked around his shoulders. They ran. Dean didn’t seem to mind carrying so much of his weight again. But it didn’t stop Castiel from griping about it.

What could he say? He was hoping to be carried again.

They were halfway back to the car by the time Dean stopped. “Why’d you stand around like that?” he asked.

“Sorry. I got a little caught up in the moment.”

Dean laughed softly, turning so they could face the show. “Idiot…”

“I will readily admit that I am in no way qualified to do this. You already knew that, yet you put me in charge anyway. So if either one of us has to be the idiot here, it’s you.”

“Hey, you took the job. And for what, a kiss?” Dean nudged his shoulder and gave him a look. “You sap.”

Gritting his teeth, Castiel could only feel relieved as the sky erupted overhead. It gave him an excuse to put this conversation to a much needed end.

“Whoa,” he gasped, looking up. The sky was taken over with radiant flowers and gigantic eyes. Bursts of glinting light poured from the stars, thousands of sparks rained down.  The golds and reds, the greens and blues. The pinks and purples and brilliant whites. All of it shimmered and gleamed, mixed together as a single entity towering above. Then dozens of rockets ascended from the earth, each trailing a luminous tail. Castiel gaped. He’d witnessed fireworks like them before, but never so close. A chill moved down his spine. The sound alone shook him to the core; he almost had to cover his ears.

Dean managed to holler over the noise. He whooped and whistled. He punched his fist into the sky. The arm around Castiel’s shoulders tightened, and they swayed as Dean cheered on. The fireworks lit up in his eyes, and more than anywhere else, that’s where they belonged.

Castiel laughed. He wrapped himself around Dean’s side, hands crossing over his waist. Naturally his head settled in the crook of his neck. Neither of them seemed to have a problem with that for the time being.

Eventually the fireworks exhausted themselves, but Castiel still felt them all the same. They pounded in his chest, pumping the feeling of love and life through his entire being; there they would never fade.

Dean ran out of things to shout, and Castiel decided it was the right time to ask. “Now tell me,” he demanded, cupping Dean’s face, “where’s my kiss, damn it?”

Hell, if they were standing any closer, Castiel would’ve just gone for it.

“Yeah, uh. About that.” Dean cupped Castiel’s face back, and that got his heart stuttering. But it wasn’t in the same tender, loving manner. Oh, no. Instead he pinched his cheeks together, making Castiel’s lips overly puckered. “I kinda did this thing where I lied...”

Castiel blinked. “Dean. Why must you break my heart.”

“What was that?” Dean shook him mildly. “Couldn’t understand you there, Fishyface.”

“Stop it,” Castiel moped, smacking his hand away. “I don’t much appreciate being lied to like that.”

“Aw, cheer up,” Dean coaxed. “It was just a joke.”

“Yeah no shit.” Castiel turned, if only to hide his growing  disappointment. “Just you wait, Dean. I’ll woo you someday.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

They made their way back to the car in silence. Castiel reclaimed his spot on the hood. “You done with these?” Dean asked, pointing to the snacks and handheld fireworks. Castiel nodded, so Dean scooped it all up and disappeared into the cabin. Metallica was switched out for Led Zeppelin. The air smelt of sulfur. Castiel leant back on the windshield, sighed, and waited for the stars to come out again.

Dean joined soon after. “You’ve probably had enough of this for tonight, huh?”

“What, stargazing?” Castiel shot him a lazy glance. A smile crept to his lips as he refocused on the hazy sky. “Never.”

“ ‘Course not.”

“We could head back if you wanted to. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Nah, I’ll let you geek out for a bit. Sky’s a lot more open here than it is at our site. It’d be a crime to take you away from this.”

Castiel laughed, letting the crickets and warbling guitar solos take over in place of his voice. He had to agree, the sky was as big as he’d ever seen it. With the smoke still blowing away, he could only make out the stars around the edges. But he could wait to see them all. He could always wait.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you like them so much? The stars, I mean.” Dean folded his hands over his chest. “In all the years we’ve known each other, I don’t think you’ve ever explained that to me. Not in full, anyway.”

“That’s because if I did, I’d never shut up,” Castiel explained. That earned him a quiet laugh. “But in all seriousness, I like them because they bring a certain...comfort. They’re always up there. Night after night, without fail. Even if it’s too cloudy to see a single one, I still know just where they are. Before I even knew what a star was, I felt that they were watching over me in a way. That they looked after me as much as I looked up at them...”

He shifted. “Of course now, I know that’s hardly true. The universe is a cold and empty place, and it’s utterly indifferent towards me and everyone in it. But, still. The stars remain the one thing I’m content to be alone with. It never matters how dark the rest of the world grows; that just makes them shine even brighter.”

“...Wow,” Dean said. “So poetic.”

Cas gave him a look, but Dean’s teasing didn’t phase him from continuing. “I like the simple honesty of it, too. A clear night sky doesn’t hide anything. It presents the entire universe before you, no barriers. No mystery. No hiding.”

“Huh. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I can remember of that astronomy class, there’s far more out there than what we see in the sky. What lies beyond the observable universe is a very well-kept secret. Isn’t it, Mr. Scientist?”

“Well, the Mr. Poetic side of me likes to think it’s not the universe hiding from us. It’s our own eyes unable to detect it. Then whatever else is out there, it’s just taking its time to reach us. That’s all.”

Dean hummed. He nodded his head. “You’re gonna be an excellent physicist. I can already tell.”

“Alright then, Dean. You like the stars too, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is that?”

Tapping his fingers on his chest, Dean searched the sky for an answer. His eyes were moving and wide, but calm. Then his hands stilled, and he smiled.

“Because they remind me of you.”

Warm as it was, Castiel froze under his stare. Because wow. That was inadvertently sweet of him.

Dean went on, “Sometimes I think you and I don’t spend nearly as much time together as we should. We’re always so busy with our own things… But one look at the stars, and I think, ‘Hey. Cas, that friggin’ nerd, he’s probably looking at ‘em too.’ So that helps. It makes us seem a bit more...connected, I guess. Even if we haven’t hung out in a while…”

“...” Castiel blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, breaking their gaze. “ ‘Oh.’ ”

Castiel would’ve followed that with something a bit more intelligent—well, he would’ve attempted to, at least. No doubt he’d have trouble with this one. But something flickered above, catching his eye.

It was a shooting star.

Immediately Castiel sat upright. His palms pressed against the glass, his chin stretched up towards the sky, and he locked his gaze. It traveled clear across the sky, trailing a tail of stardust a third of the length. And thank God the smoke had finally cleared up. Castiel wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he missed out on a single instant of that shooting star. As soon as it appeared, it hid behind a clump of distant trees. Breathless, Castiel just sat there, unable to look anywhere else. He couldn’t tell whether he was blindly hopeful or in great disbelief that it would ever come back.

For the longest time, he was still as a rock.

Then Dean whistled. “That was a good one.”

“I’ve...I’ve never seen one before.”

“Really? I saw six our first night.” Dean shifted beside him. “Oh, right. You were already asleep.”

“Six? And you didn’t think to wake me up??”

“Hey I tried, man. But you were out like a light.”

Castiel sighed. “I still can’t believe it,” he said, giddy. “That was my first shooting star.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“No. Wait.” He frowned. “People do that?”

“Of course people—you didn’t know that?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a thing some people believe. Same as blowing out birthday candles or throwing a coin in a well: if you make a wish with it, it’ll come true. Hell, I made one. It’s probably not too late yet.” Dean nudged his shoulder lifted his eyebrows. “I’m sure if you made one now it’d still count for somethin’.”

Castiel wondered what Dean could’ve wished for. But, as with the other two examples given, Castiel assumed telling another about your wish wouldn’t make it come true. “So you believe it too, then?” he asked instead.

“In a way,” Dean shrugged. “Wishing’s a start. But if you want it to go anywhere, you’re gonna have to get off your ass sooner or later and do somethin’ about it.”

“I see…”

Puffing his cheeks, Castiel let himself collapse back onto the windshield. He looked up at the sky; it seemed to be waiting for him. Well, if he had to choose, if there was one wish to be made…

“Dean?”

“Cas.”

“Have you ever told someone you love them?”

“...Uh.”

Castiel wrung his hands. He dared look over, finding Dean’s expression quite unreadable. It didn’t help that they couldn’t make eye contact to save each other’s life. “Outside of family, I mean,” Castiel added, in case Dean was planning to jump his way through that loophole.

Then in his usual calm and collected manner, Dean spoke up. “No, actually. I haven’t.”

“Have you at least felt it?”

That got him to squirm. Dean played it off with a laugh. “Sorry, but I’m not answerin’ that until you tell me about your secret crush.”

Castiel squinted at him, but it was no use. Dean had clearly won that one. “Fair enough...”

Castiel wasn’t familiar with the song that hummed in the speakers behind them, but he thought it fitting. The rampant guitars and drums died down to quiet drawl, and the wind settled over like a tired hush. Castiel breathed it in. The night air cooled his lungs, soothed his nerves. Another shooting star flickered across the sky, and although it wasn’t as grand as the first, his heart sang at the sight. The rest of the stars hung in their ever silent manner, but Castiel swore. The universe was in fact trying to tell him something.

_So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new, And happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you..._

Dean was gazing at the sky. His eyes held onto the moon, basking in her silver glow. After scratching his neck, he folded his arms behind his head. Castiel studied his every detail, his every move. They had never been so alone, and for that everything felt alright. For the first time, everything was alright. Dean’s lips fell out of a tender smile, and Castiel wished he could’ve made it stay. More than anything, he wished Dean would never have a reason to stop smiling. He wished Dean would take kindly to his love. Because a pit had opened in his heart, and it was time to jump. This was it. This was the perfect moment to tell him.

Castiel didn’t need to steel his nerves. He didn’t need to take in a deep breath. All he needed to do was open his mouth and set the long overdue words free.

_It’s you._

The words came up like vomit; he found himself needing to hold them in. Against his courage, against his will, instinct forced him deeper into silence. Dean looked about as interested in their passing conversation as he would watching paint dry, when just a second ago Castiel swore there was an aching for answers. The moon was too bright. The air was too cool. The next song on the cassette started, the new guitar riff a sudden insult to his ears. Because that meant it was already too late. The moment slipped through his fingers like sand. Had that analogy been truth, the wind would’ve carried it straight away. It would’ve been dangled mercilessly before him, all before dispersing ever into the endless, indifferent void of stars.

Though he was sure they would see more, Castiel knew with certainty that his first shooting star would never come back. So he swallowed the words down, as if it didn’t burn his throat. As if he wasn’t betraying his own heart as they rolled back down into his stomach.

Because honestly, who the hell was he kidding? The “perfect moment” was a lie. A goddamn fucking lie. Just a pathetic excuse to instill false confidence, to inject false hope that one day, yes! He would tell Dean! He would tell him all about the things he felt, about all the things he wished they did to each other. And somehow, just somehow, that would make everything okay. Miraculously, everything would work out fine. So that his unwavering silence on the forbidden urges and attraction wouldn’t drive him insane.

But of course. It was a wasted love, and even more than that, an unrequitable love. After all the embarrassment and shame, the bullying and torment. The peers who teased them and made fun of their bond. The shitheads who laughed when they so much as enjoyed a moment together and could look each other in the eye because of it. All the times his mother threw him at every psychiatrist she could find and into every locked room she could to make it stop. After all they had to go through because Castiel wasn’t strong enough to hide himself a hundred percent of the time and Dean didn’t know how to handle any of it, all the goddamn times Castiel had to remind himself that their relationship could be nothing other than what it already was. All the times Dean broke his heart without knowing it. For that Castiel was never going to say it, he was never going to say any of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t _allowed_ to. An elusive part of him had known that all along.

So, no. The perfect moment wasn’t a lie. It was real. He felt it. It happened. It just simply wasn’t enough.

_I should’ve quit you baby, oh such a long time ago…_

Castiel hated that it hurt. He hated that he was on the brink of crying. None of this mattered, none of it ever mattered, why should he get so worked up over it? Dean was his best friend. Castiel had been perfectly fine with that arrangement for ten years. He wouldn’t give it up for anything. He’d be damned if the guy didn’t make him happy just by existing. Castiel loved him. He loved him with every ounce of his being. And he loved him as a friend. That’s what they were, after all. That’s what they always were.

Castiel sighed, the air shuddering. He let out a breath that he’d been holding for far too long, and the knot in his chest relaxed. At once he was okay. He was drained and tired and sad, but he was okay. If Dean took notice in his struggle, he kept it to himself. And that was okay, too.

He could suffer through the silence, if it meant keeping Dean happy and unaware. If it meant keeping their friendship too.

Castiel let his fists unfurl. His breaths fell out of their shuddering manner and into slow, regulated intervals. Soon enough the lump in his throat was gone, and there wasn’t a single trace of pain in his body.

Really, he was okay.

“You were right,” Castiel said, his voice flowing easily enough. Long as he diverted every ounce of energy into keeping his behavior entirely neutral, it was enough.

“Right about what?” Dean asked. His gaze never faltered from the sky.

“About Charlie.”

Finally Dean looked over. His eyes ripped away from the stars, and Castiel swore they were disappointed in his answer. Hurt, even.

But it was only for a second. He was just seeing things he wanted to see.

Dean’s face cracked open with a grin. “I knew it.”

Castiel produced a grin of his own, small as it was. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Dean rose to a sitting position, keeping his weight leant back on his palms. “You hang out with her all the time. I even got jealous of her for a while, thinking she was your new bestie or whatever. And this crush of yours? I know it started at the beginning of junior year, which is the same time we met her.” His smile softened to a fond quirk. “You two were an instant hit, man. I’d be damned if it wasn’t her.”

Dean’s gaze drifted closer to his eyes, but they had yet to meet. “I mean, you two act like a damn couple half the time anyway. Holdin' hands 'n' shit..."

"It's not like that—"

"You took her to prom, for cryin’ out loud.”

Castiel snickered, rolling his eyes. “More like _she_ took _me_.”

“Plus,” Dean went on, a devious edge creeping over his features. “I know you two had like, a dozen slumber parties.”

Castiel laughed at that. “She told you?”

“She tells me everything,” Dean affirmed, with a clap against the glass to prove it. He gave Castiel a look. “That’s kind of low, isn’t it? Having sleepovers with the girl you have a crush on?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “It was never like that...”

“So you’re saying you never peeked when she was changin’?”

“Dean!” Castiel smacked his arm. Dean just laughed. “Of course I never—you idiot.”

“C’mon Cas, spill it. I’m a judgement-free man, I promise.”

“I’m not a creep!”

“Uh huh.”

“And the fact that you’d be okay with it concerns me.”

“Alright, fine. Lie to me. See if I care.”

Castiel shook his head, giving up. As he rolled his eyes a second time, another shooting star caught his glance. It vanished before he could even make mental note—a ghost haunting the back of his mind.

“You can imagine why I never said anything about it.”

That’s when Dean’s smile died. His lips were still bent, but the spark in his eyes was gone. “You knew she wouldn’t return the feelings.”

“That,” Castiel sighed, joining him in the world of upright sitting. “And I figured things would be better between us, if I kept quiet about it…

“I’ve tried everything to rid of my feelings. Ignore them, deny them, push them away…I just can’t seem to force myself out of it.” He tried holding his smile for Dean’s sake, but it quickly died, too. There was too much truth in his lies, so his throat tightened around the words. His heart sank at the utter realization.

“I don’t see how that’s fair.”

“Cas…”

“Why should I be able to love someone so much, when I can’t even risk telling it to their stupid face?”

“ _Cas_ —”

“It’s not just unfair. It’s _fucking cruel_.”

Castiel pushed out a huff. Only then did he notice how tight his teeth were clenched. How weak his voice had become. How Dean’s hand on his shoulder only made it worse.

It must’ve calmed some side of him down. Castiel relaxed much as he could, and he was able to keep talking. “I...I can’t force someone to love me either, Dean. Nor would I want to. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Hey.” Dean squeezed his shoulder lightly. “You’re about to go off into the world. You’re going to meet so many other people at college...there’s no way you won’t be able to find someone else.”

“What if I don’t want anybody else?”

“Then I guess you’ll never know how happy you could be with someone else.”

Castiel deflated a little. What he said made sense. It made a lot of sense. He shot Dean his best “I’m not convinced” glare nonetheless, not wanting to believe it in the slightest.

“Look. No offense, and not that I know much better, but you’re kinda naive about this stuff. What I mean by finding someone else...I mean you’re going to have choices. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot of people out there who you can love and who will feel the same for you.”

Castiel peeped up at him, doubtful and pessimistic. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” Dean nodded, “You’ve got a lot of good qualities, charms...”

“Like what?”

“Well...first off, you’re probably the smartest person I know. You’re funny. And chicks may dig blunt studs like me, but _women_ adore funny nerds. So you’ve got that going for you.” Dean laughed softly. Castiel patiently waited for him to continue. “Uh. Not gonna lie, you can be pretty damn awkward. But so awkward, in fact, that it loops back to kinda cute. And, you know...you have a decent face, for a guy…”

Castiel lifted his eyebrows at that. “You think I’m cute?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I mean you’re not ugly, alright? So shut it, I’m not done.” He was the only one to laugh. Then the air grew silent and still; and that wasn't a bad thing.

Dean continued, “You’ve got this...this energy about you. You’re quiet and reserved, but you’re not a silence. You’re always thinking, always curious. You can be such a child one second, and so serious the next. You were always like that, even when we were kids.” He grinned. “That’s one of the things I like about you best, actually. You’re still very much you. Yourself. I sincerely hope that never changes.

“And you’re one of the nicest people I know.” At last Dean made eye contact, and Castiel couldn’t help but let it pin him where he sat. “You care. So much more than anyone else, you care. You deserve someone...someone special.”

Dean smiled. Castiel still wanted to believe that there was something sad behind it.

If anything, with all that had just been disclosed, all that was reflected and held in Dean’s eyes, with everything they were thinking and exchanging and keeping to themselves in this very moment...it only confused him. It didn’t help that he suddenly realized just how close they’d gotten. Their knees were touching, their wrists crossed, and if Dean leant any closer, Castiel was certain their breath would skim across each other’s faces. This didn’t make any sense.

Dean couldn’t possibly see all of that in him, could he?

A chill ran through Castiel’s spine. Dean must’ve taken note of it, as he promptly cleared his throat and scooted away. “Really?” he muttered. “After I give you my jacket and everything, you’re still cold?”

Castiel blinked. “Yeah,” he mumbled, already missing the warmth that came and went with Dean’s proximity. So it wasn’t a complete lie. “It’s not exactly July anymore, you know.”

“You big baby,” Dean teased. Before Castiel could make a face at that, Dean hopped onto the ground and went to the back of the car. Castiel drew his knees to his chest and wiped the sweat from his palms. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his fingers. The car creaked and shook as the trunk was opened then slammed closed. Castiel counted Dean’s footsteps as he neared. His walk back took more time than necessary.

Dean came up to Castiel with a thick, patchwork blanket bundled in his arms. “Just how many of these things did you bring?” Castiel asked.

“Many as I wanted.”

“Guess so.” Castiel started removing his jacket.

“Don’t,” Dean said, smothering his attempts by unfurling the blanket over his shoulders.

“But I already have a sweater. All you have is a t-shirt—”

“I’m fine,” he said, throwing in another smile to sell it. “And you’re the one shivering right now. Not me.”

 _Sure_. _But it’s not because I’m cold. It’s because you’re being an absolute angel right now, and you’re making it impossibly difficult for me to contain myself and not kiss you where you stand._

Castiel let him pat the blanket in place. He swallowed those words too.

“Thank you.”

“Don’ mention it.”

Castiel felt guilty, hoarding all these layers to himself, but he was grateful anyway. He took the edges of the blanket and wrapped it entirely around his body. It was the same one Dean let him use when he’d spend the night. The outer side was covered in various quilted squares that made up a cabin in the woods. The inside wasn’t as soft as it used to be, but it was still cozy and fluffy. It was still heavy and thick and easy to fall asleep under. By far, it was his favorite blanket that Dean owned.

Dean said they’d stick around long enough to see just a few more shooting stars, then they’d drive back to camp. Castiel agreed with the plan and laid back on the windshield to do just that. Dean did the same. He suggested Castiel tell Charlie how he felt. “Before you leave for college. Face to face. I’m sure she’d find it flattering, at least. That might help you get over it.” And boy, did Castiel want to stab his own ears out at that.

Clouds were rolling in from the eastern corner of the sky. A few minutes of counting the stars passed, and their shoulders were touching again. Then their legs, then their heads. Castiel hadn’t budged an inch, that he knew for sure. He didn’t think much else of it, though. Dean just must’ve been getting cold...

“Hey, Cas. _Cas._ ”

Castiel jolted awake, not having realized he’d dozed off until Dean was shaking his shoulder. “I ain’t carrying you again. No friggin’ way. So no falling asleep till we’re back at camp, alright?”

Castiel laughed. It was the smallest, most quiet laugh he’d ever produced. His voice seemed to come from someplace else. “Don’t blame me if I fall asleep Dean, you’re the one that gave me a blanket.”

“I’m leavin’ your ass here if you don’t stay awake with me.”

“I’m only closing my eyes,” he muttered, smacking his lips. “I just...I need to close my eyes right now...”

But it was just another lie. Castiel shut out the sky and ignored the pressing warmth at his side. His heart was left raw and empty, so he decided it was time to give it a rest. Within minutes he was fast asleep; letting Dean go had tuckered him out.

There weren’t any more shooting stars out there, anyway. Surely they’d all given up on him by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 3B ST:  
> Bad Mood - moow  
> Rapt - Karen O  
> Should’ve Known Better - Sufjan Stevens  
> Woods - Bon Iver  
> Giant of Illinois - Andrew Bird  
> Through the Blue Mountains - Ari Hest  
> Metal Guru - T. Rex  
> False River - A.A. Bondy  
> What Is And What Should Never Be - Led Zeppelin  
> Body - Karen O  
> I Can’t Make You Love Me (cover) - Dave Thomas Junior  
> Tenenbaum - The Paper Kites 
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	7. Day 4 - Meanwhile on Mars

It was raining.

Castiel awoke to the gentle pitter-patter, quick to realize he wasn’t on the hood of Dean’s car or under the stars anymore. He was in the tent, and it was morning. He was buried in a multitude of blankets, one of which was the same he’d fallen asleep under. His head was cradled by two pillows instead of one. He reached to rub his eyes, noticing that the bandages on his fingers had been replaced. Castiel sunk into the air mattress, the space next to him empty. Dean was gone.

“Dean?” Castiel called out. Something like the sound of a chew toy was all he heard in return. He figured it was a squirrel.

Castiel brought his wrist up to check the time. He frowned; his watch was missing. It took some looking around, but he found it in the netted pocket hanging from the wall. His glasses were there too. Often as he did it, he hated falling asleep with either of those items on. He was glad Dean seemed to know that.

Speaking of, where was that guy? Castiel still hadn’t heard anything besides the rain and that squirrel. No voice, no footsteps, no nothing. He changed into some jeans and another sweater, but even then Dean still hadn’t returned. Castiel peeked outside, and the car was there. So maybe he just went to use the restroom or something...

Castiel slumped. He was probably with Janice again.

Castiel slipped on his glasses but not his watch. He’d already checked the time, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his day checking it again. 11:48. He was more than disappointed that the day was already halfway over. Granted, they did stay up quite late last night, but still. It was their final day. Castiel wanted to make this one last.

He was relieved to find that Dean was not in fact with Janice. She and Kristian were sitting in the back of their van with the doors wide open. Janice had her guitar in her lap. After giving a shy wave, Castiel approached and asked if either of them knew where Dean was. Kristian shrugged, and Janice said she’d seen him walk down the road not more than a few hours ago. “I don’t know where he was headed, though,” she added. “He didn’t say much.”

“That’s alright,” Castiel said. Then he thanked her and started down the same way Janice had pointed him to.

It wasn’t raining too terribly hard, but the ground was squishy with mud and drained with puddles. Castiel pulled the hood of his windbreaker up to get some coverage on his stinging ears. Sometimes he had to veer off the road completely to avoid getting his shoes wet. Families were tearing down tents, or stuffing their cars to leave and get out of the weather. One kid was stomping in a puddle with her pink little boots, while her mother told her, “Stop that. You’ll get sick.” The clouds looked fairly thick and gray, too. It’d probably be like this all day, if not any longer than that. Castiel knew they would stay, though. Rain never bothered Dean.

Castiel thought he might find him by the dock, but he wasn’t there either. Just a family of ducks paddling to shore. So he continued on, careful not to glue his eyes to the ground as he walked.

Something wasn’t adding up. Janice said he’d been out for a few hours. If Dean had been awake that long, why hadn’t he woken Castiel too? And sure, Dean didn’t mind the rain, but a few hours out in this and he’d be soaked. Nobody enjoyed that. Castiel ventured off into parts of the campground he’d never seen, and even then Dean was nowhere to be found. Wherever he was, it seemed he didn’t want to be found.

Castiel was heading down an obscure biking trail when he started to get worried. Being in a wooded area, it reminded him of the monster—sorry, the Cheese Doodle. God, that was a stupid name. It really was. Castiel would’ve laughed at remembering it, if it hadn’t been so frightening in doing so. Because monsters were real, apparently, and Dean was missing. Great.

Eventually the trail forked into two, and Castiel sighed. One went deeper into land, it seemed, and the other towards the lake. He was stumped, and he almost thought of turning back completely. Dean couldn’t have been this far out, hell, he was back at camp for all Castiel knew. But then a rock went skipping across what part of the lake he could see, so he turned his back to the other trail and kept walking.

Another rock flew by. It skipped maybe five or six times before sinking into the water. Castiel never saw it for himself, but Dean’s bragged about being able to skip rocks until they were so far away, you couldn’t tell if they ever sunk into the water or not. Castiel never doubted that. So maybe it wasn’t Dean throwing them. But it didn’t hurt to check.

Castiel called out his name again, but whoever it was down there, they didn’t respond. Another three rocks were skipped before Castiel could see someone standing past the trees. He let out a sigh of relief; it was Dean.

Now knowing for certain, Castiel walked with a bit more purpose. He didn’t care if he stepped in a puddle or in watery moss at this point. His feet were soaked.

It wasn’t until Castiel was feet away that Dean noticed him. Instinctively, he jumped then muttered a curse. His eyes were red, heavy circles embedded beneath. He certainly turned away fast enough, but Castiel knew those weren’t raindrops rolling down his face. Those were tears.

“Dean,” Castiel said, frowning. “Are you alright?”

Dean tossed a rock in the air twice before chucking it over the lake. It didn’t skip a single time. “How’d you find me?”

“ESP.”

“Smartass.”

“Thank you. Now I’ll ask again. Are you alright?”

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing.”

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?”

“It looks like you’re avoiding my question.”

Without turning to face him, Dean sifted through the pebbles and mud. “I’m skippin’ rocks,” he said, “been trying to beat my record all morning.”

“Do you even know what your record is?”

“No.” Once he had a handful of flat rocks, he stood upright again. Then he reached an arm out, ready to throw. “But I know I’ve gotten nowhere close.”

Dean threw another. It skipped four times.

“Teach me,” Castiel said.

“What?”

Castiel found a rock of his own, and stepped closer to Dean. “Teach me how to skip rocks.”

“It’s simple. Just hold it flat with your forefinger and thumb, wind back, and release.” He did just that. “Gets easier the more you do it.”

“Can you show me how to hold it? I don’t quite know—”

“Sorry, can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just don’t want to right now.”

Okay. Something was definitely wrong. Castiel watched him silently, hoping the absence of a conversation would get him to out with it already. But Dean went on skipping rocks, his form growing sloppier and sloppier with each attempt.

“You hungry?” Dean asked.

“Not particularly.”

“I’ve been saving the good stuff for today. Eggs, bacon, some pancake mix. Not the usual out-of-the-box crap.”

Castiel had nothing to say about that. Though he had to admit, Dean did make a killer breakfast. It almost got him to comply. Almost. But his friend’s well-being was more of a concern than a rumbly tummy right about now. “We’re not eating until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m hungry. That’s what’s wrong.”

“Dean—”

“So c’mon.” Dean dropped any rocks he still had and grabbed Castiel’s wrist. His hand was gritty with sand and cold with mud. He started back towards the trail. Castiel had no choice but to follow.

Neither spoke a word as they trekked through the woods. The way Dean carried his shoulders, it said enough. It said that he wasn’t fine. That the rain wasn’t all that made him hunch over like that. It made Castiel’s heart sink. Really, it’d be nice if Dean let someone help him for once.

Castiel looked at the way Dean held onto him. His fingers were tense, and the sand scraped Castiel’s skin. He didn’t complain, though. He only turned his own hand over so he could hold Dean’s wrist too. Save for a small, reassuring squeeze, he was gentle about it. _I’m here for you, you know._

Dean let go seconds later. He didn’t need any of that chick flick crap.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bacon was burnt. The pancakes were runny in the middle. Castiel’s eggs were overcooked, and never before had Dean gotten them wrong. They were still fine, though, so he didn’t complain—not that he had the heart to complain in the first place. At least the hash browns turned out okay.

Dean slapped on smiles and whistled his favorite songs. He joked about how much Castiel was staring at him. He flipped the pancakes and eggs with gusto. But it was obvious. He was struggling. He was distracted. He was falling apart inside, and that dead look in his eyes gave it away. It killed Castiel every time he peered into them, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to help, and the only way he could hope to attempt that was through prodding and compassionate looks. Words sure as hell weren’t going to work. Dean wouldn’t let them.

But by the looks of it, Dean wasn’t letting any compassionate nor prodding looks help either.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, but for Dean’s sake Castiel started eating. He said he liked the bacon, and Dean muttered a rather unconvincing “thanks.” Plate in hand, Dean took his spot across the table. He let his head fall into one hand while the other reached for the lid on the orange juice.

“Pancakes are pretty good, too,” Castiel added.

“Yeah, I bet they are.”

Castiel noted the way Dean’s eyes drooped shut as he poured the orange juice. He was about to clear his throat and tell him the cup was almost full, but the jug slipped out of Dean’s fingers entirely. He was quick to save it, but it had already spilled all over his food and the table. His cup was knocked over, too. “Christ,” he mumbled under his breath, setting the jug down.

Castiel reached for the paper towels, but Dean got to them before he did. “I got it,” Dean snapped.

“Let me help.”

“I said I got it.”

“Dean,” Castiel dropped his fork and looked him in the eye. “Enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Enough bullshit. Clearly something’s bothering you. If you’d tell me, I could help—”

“I’m just tired, alright?”

“Okay. You’re tired. How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None.”

“Well then there you go. That explains why you’re tired.” Castiel paused to take a breath. He shouldn’t be getting frustrated like this. “What it doesn’t explain, is why I had to trek halfway around the lake, just to find you hiding in some corner of the woods, crying—”

“Dammit, Cas! For the last time, I’m fine!”

He so clearly wasn’t. Dean bowed his head and covered his eyes, and he didn’t move a single inch. His jaw did the thing, but that was it.

Then he sucked in a breath, and Castiel’s heart snapped in two. He watched Dean bite his lip all for another few seconds, before he had to stand up and walk over. He set a hand on his shoulder, cautious in taking the spot next to him. He straddled the bench so he could face Dean completely.

As soon as he settled in place, Dean crashed into his arms.

Castiel didn’t hesitate in holding him tighter. Dean’s breath came in loosely controlled stutters. His shoulders trembled, so Castiel did his best to soothe them. He could only imagine what was running through his mind. Dean hadn’t sobbed into his shoulder like this since...hell, since they were nine.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered at one point. He didn’t know why, or what exactly he was apologizing for. But he needed to say it. “I’m so sorry…”

Dean didn’t seem to hear it. If he did, it only appeared to make some things worse. So Castiel bit his lips shut and soothed his back, praying that would be enough and not too much for now.

Eventually Dean calmed down. He still couldn’t look up, but his shoulders no longer bounced and his breathing was somewhat under control. He sniffled, and Castiel was quick to hand him a paper towel. Dean wiped his nose, crumpled the towel, and threw it on the ground.

“Earlier, while you were sleepin’, I had this thought,” Dean began, voice shaky and raw. “I thought… ‘This is our last full day together.’ And I just…”

Castiel reached to hold him again, knowing he needed it. Dean didn’t stop him.

He continued, “I needed to get away. So I did. I tried walking it off, I tried thinking of somethin’ else. But I couldn’t, so I walked farther. Still couldn’t, walked even more. You get the idea. Sorry you had to go out and find me. I just didn’t want you to see me upset.” He let out a sad laugh. “So much for that…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean,” Castiel said. “I’m sad it’s our last day, too.”

“It’s not just that…”

“Well, I’m here if you’re willing to talk about it. If not, then I’m still here.”

Dean nodded, rubbing his nose. Castiel handed him another paper towel.

“Yeah, you’re here.” Dean said it like he needed to in order to believe it. “You are here. But pretty soon you won’t be.”

His voice cracked at the end there. Dean reached a hand up to his eyes. Castiel had to resist the urge not to take hold of that hand and wipe his tears for him.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I’m happy for you. Very happy. Ecstatic. I think it’s great that you’re going to a college of your choice to study the field of your choice. It’ll be the best damn thing that ever happens to you. But…but I’ll be damned if I won’t miss you like crazy.”

“Dean…”

“Hell, you haven’t even left, and I already miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” Castiel hugged him again, feeling his own waterworks about to kick in. “I’m going to miss you a lot…”

They were quiet and still for a long time. The rain wasn’t showing any signs of relenting. If anything, it was falling even harder. Castiel could hardly see past the raindrops on his glasses for not having dried them in a while.

“I’m scared.” Dean spoke hardly above a whisper. “I’m so scared I’m gonna lose you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. You’ll be so busy with your own life, doing your own things and making your own friends. Honestly, just how long do you think it’ll take before I’m replaced and you forget about me completely?”

Castiel backed away, as if the idea burned him. Dean looked up at him with puffy eyes. They were wet and wide and honest and afraid. Castiel felt himself shrink under his scrutiny. Suddenly, they were nine years old again.

“I’m nobody special, Cas. You’re gonna go off to become the world’s first astronaut to set foot on another planet, and I’ll be stuck here the rest of my life fixin’ cars. You’re going to make a difference. I’m going to make just another paycheck after measly paycheck. There’s a million different versions of me out there, I just happened to be the first one you met. There’s no reason for you not to forget me.

“But you,” Dean pointed a finger at his chest. “You mean everything to me.”

Castiel froze. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, much as he tried to. That was the last thing Dean needed to see right now.

“You’re the greatest friend I’ll ever have, and I think we make a pretty great team. But I’m terrified that in four years, I’ll mean absolutely nothing to you.

“I wish I didn’t think so. It ain’t fair to you, and I hate myself for it. But it’s been gnawing at the back of my mind for months now, and I just can’t stop it—”

Dean pushed himself away and rubbed his eyes. “God, why am I so fucking _pathetic_ —”

“Dean…” Castiel reached for his shoulder. “You’re not pathetic. You’re a human being. So quit trying to pretend you’re not and let yourself cry if you have to. Let yourself feel something.” Harsh as it felt to finally say it, Castiel knew that was something Dean had been needing to hear for years.

That, of course, only seemed to make Dean even more hesitant and stubborn.

Castiel sighed. He went on, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” _Of course he doesn’t, you moron. You never told him._ “You’ve done so much for me. You’ve taught me so many things, you’ve shown me how beautiful and crazy and exciting the world can be. You’ve shown me that my life is my own, and that it’s worth taking charge of. Without you, I wouldn’t even be—Dean, I’d be _nothing_. Just another mindless, obedient drone stuck in my messed up family. I’d never replace you, or give you up for anything. No way there’s a million other people out there just like you. Not even one.

“Outside of that, you’re amazing. You have such a big heart. You rarely show it, but I’ve known it all along. You’re so kind, and wonderful, and talented…You have so much to look forward to. Never let anyone else tell you otherwise. Not even yourself.

“And as long as you’re willing to be my friend, I’m willing to be yours. I can’t imagine getting this far without you, Dean. And I don’t plan on going any further in life without you. It’d be terrible. An absolute mess.”

Castiel offered a small smile. “You’ll always be with me. Even when I’m away, you’ll be with me. I know that because it’ll be the only way I’ll ever survive.”

Dean managed to laugh at that. “You never could make it very far without me.”

“You’re damn right.”

“And neither could I…”

“Hey.” Castiel straightened up. “How about this: we’ll call each other often as we can. It doesn’t even have to be important, we’ll talk about anything we want. That way we’ll know what’s going on in each other’s lives. Just remember it won’t be too long till I’m back for winter break.”

Dean nodded, but his smile had already disappeared. He mirrored Castiel’s stance, then let his forehead fall onto his shoulder again. “You’re going to be pretty busy.”

“Yeah, I will. But you’ll still be important to me, and I won’t have anyone breathing down my neck anymore. So I’m going to work hard to make time for us. I can promise you that. Hell, I’ve been promising myself that for a long time now. You aren’t the only one who’s been afraid of losing something, you know.”

Dean seemed to accept that. He stayed where he was, and Castiel decided that that was it. He couldn’t take it any longer. He planted a kiss against Dean’s hair, and he couldn’t care less what repercussions it would bring. It just felt like the right thing to do.

A hand folded on top of his, and Castiel took it. He didn’t move otherwise, too lost in the way their fingers locked together. He closed his eyes. He cursed himself for lying to Dean. Right now would’ve been the perfect time to tell him. And he actually meant that this time.

“Last night, when you asked if I’ve ever felt I was in love with someone…”

Dean cleared his throat. He turned to face Castiel completely, but instead of looking him in the eye, he tipped his head down. He tightened his grip.

“I think in some way, I uh…” Dean sighed, and shook his head doubtfully. He took his time in drawing in another deep breath before continuing.

“I think in some way, I feel that way about you, Cas.”

“...What.”

Raindrops fell and pounded as hard as their hearts. The air stung Castiel’s eyes. The wind carried and whispered the words back to him again. He didn’t register a single one.

Dean himself had spoken them hardly above a whisper. And he didn’t dare repeat them. He only halted his breathing and buried his head deep beneath Castiel’s chin and pretended neither of them existed. So it was very plausible Castiel heard him incorrectly. Certainly, he didn’t mean...

“Wait, what??” Castiel sputtered, bringing Dean’s chin up with a gentle hand. Dean refused to make any sort of eye contact, but that didn’t stop Castiel from trying. Brushing a tear with his thumb, he offered a soft, pleading glance.

“Dean…”

Dean shook his head again, a bit more forceful this time. He pulled his hand free and retreated. “Look, just...just forget it, okay? It’s stupid. Won’t matter to you anyway…”

Castiel’s jaw dropped wide open. Because who was he kidding? He had excellent hearing, and he knew that look of shame all too well. He hadn’t misheard Dean. He hadn’t misheard him at all.

Dean was...he felt the same...oh God. He felt the same way.

But he thought Castiel didn’t...

Oh no. He had to fix this. He had to fix this right this instant.

With a sudden, steely determination, Castiel brought another hand up and cupped Dean’s face. His beautiful, blushing, freckled face. He narrowed his eyes.

“Permission to kiss you?”

“What?”

Permission enough.

Castiel leant in. He closed his eyes, and next thing he knew his lips were all over Dean’s. Butterflies erupted from his chest, but he couldn’t have cared less. Castiel was determined, damn it. He wasn’t going to let a few nerves get in his way this time. He firmly kept his hands where they were, thumbs caressing Dean’s tears away. Massaging the pain away. Mending him. Dean tasted like salt, and Castiel told himself he’d continue until that taste went away. Castiel kissed him, with every ounce of certainty and uncertainty, of pent up frustration and blind hope and love that he’d held back on for years now outright refusing to stay bottled up a damn second longer.

He was kissing Dean, and it was good.

Then he froze. Because Dean wasn’t moving his mouth. He wasn’t moving at all. All he did was place his hands over Castiel’s shoulders as if preparing to push him away. So Castiel did it for him, realizing all too late just how foggy his glasses were.

Castiel ripped them off his face. The less clear Dean’s “you better explain yourself” glare was, the better. “Uh,” Castiel fiddled with the frames, “I—you—I thought…I’m sorry.”

Dean didn’t say a word. He only kept his mouth tightly shut, looking like he’d just witnessed a beheading.

Castiel’s heart sunk to the bottom of the lake. “I read this entirely wrong, didn’t I?”

“No, no,” Dean quickly reassured him. “I just uh, I wasn’t expecting that. Considering what you told me last night…”

“I know, I’m sorry. I lied. About Charlie. It was never her. I just…I always wanted to tell you. I always meant to. But there wasn’t ever a right time, you were always chasing someone else...I thought things would be better off between us if you never knew anyway, because I never thought you’d feel the same way. I was so scared. I thought you’d hate me, I thought you’d stop being my friend for it...But it’s you, Dean.

“It was always you.”

Dean nodded, but he didn’t do anything else. Didn’t smile, didn’t frown. Just sorta stared at a spot on Castiel’s sweater like he had a piece of food stuck to it. Castiel still wasn’t sure if this was real or not. He was stuck wrapping his head around the idea that Dean _liked_ him. But then again, he could only assume Dean was in the middle of the same exact thing.

The rain was falling its hardest now. Castiel didn’t bother with his glasses, setting them beside their plates growing soggy with rain and maple syrup. Heat rolled off his cheeks like nobody’s business, so he figured the lenses would’ve fogged up again the second he put them back on anyway.

Dean, he just watched.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “We just can’t—right now...Cas, I’m sorry, but I didn’t think I’d be breaking your heart too. Just mine.”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I _do_ like you, but…” Their eyes met, and Dean couldn’t have looked more apologetic. At once Castiel understood. He wished he hadn’t, but he understood. It wouldn’t be the first time he felt this heavy of a stone in his heart.

Dean shook his head. “Okay. Look, I know this is selfish, and you probably don’t want to hear it. But...can we pretend none of that just happened? Not indefinitely or anything, but for now? I need some time to think about it. Wrap my head around…whatever this is,” he said, gesturing at the space between them.

 _Whatever this is._ Psh. Castiel could tell him what this was, it was a freaking miracle. But he bit his tongue. Dean wanted to pretend that nothing happened. That what just happened was nothing. When it was everything Castiel had dreamed of for two years now.

“Whatever works for you,” Castiel said. He forced a smile.

Dean didn’t return it. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

Dean sighed, a hefty yawn following shortly after. “It wasn’t a lie when I said I didn’t get any sleep last night. And I am so damn fried right now.”

“You should probably go to sleep.”

“I probably should. I’m not gonna be able to do anything today otherwise. I can’t even think right now.”

“Then sleep. You get cozy in the tent, and I’ll clean up our sad attempt of a breakfast. Unless you still want to eat it.”

“Not really.”

“Me neither. Try it again for dinner?”

Dean grinned. His eyes truly were tired. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now shoo.”

Dean didn’t shoo. At least not right away. Instead, he helped Castiel toss out their plates and store any surviving food or drinks back in the cooler. Then he carried the grill back into his car to keep it from rusting. Castiel was halfway through wiping up the orange juice, when he realized with rain like this, it’d probably take care of itself. He was closing up the bins of food when Dean patted his shoulder.

“Wake me in a couple hours, alright? I don’t wanna waste the whole day in bed.”

“It’s alright. You should sleep as long as you need to. Not like we can do much in this rain anyway.”

“Just a couple hours,” Dean repeated, turning for the tent. “Like, two tops. No more than, got it?”

“Got it.”

At that, Dean disappeared. Castiel stood out in the rain a few minutes longer, pretending to put stuff away to give Dean the privacy and time to change clothes. He couldn’t imagine Dean would climb into bed all soaked from the rain…

He kissed Dean. Dean wanted to act like it meant nothing.

Castiel didn’t know how much longer he stood in the rain. All he knew was that eventually, Dean felt compelled enough to ask, “You gettin’ in here or what?” So, like the good friend he was, Castiel replied and entered the tent soon after.

Dean was already on the brink of unconsciousness. He laid face-down, hugging one of his many pillows beneath his head. His hair was drying quickly. Castiel changed—again—into his pajamas and settled as delicately as possible onto his side of the mattress. Dean’s eyes flickered open as he fumbled with his sleeping bag. “What’re you gonna do?” he slurred.

“It wouldn’t bother you if I drew, would it?”

“No. Long as you don’t draw me sleepin’.”

Castiel laughed. “My plans are foiled.”

Dean closed his eyes again, mumbling something along the lines of, “That’s just creepy.”

Castiel ignored it. Balancing on one arm, he reached for his satchel and pulled out his sketchbook. Despite the accusations, he wasn’t going to draw Dean this time. Nor would he finish the drawing he was already working on. He just didn’t feel like it right now. Instead he started a loose, lazy sketch of the girl in pink rain boots, splashing in the puddles around a muddied green and brown station wagon. Her parents were flattened silhouettes, kept in the indistinct mess of a background. Castiel paid special attention to shaping the surrounding foliage, though he couldn’t quite recall how it looked in person. Then he made sure all the raindrops (or rain lines, in this case) fell from roughly the same angle and struck the ground in logical places. Then he drew rain on the station wagon, all over its metal and dripping down its windows. He drew rain on the bushes and leaves. He drew rain on the girl’s jacket. He drew rain everywhere.

Once he held the page away, he realized there was too much. So many little specs were distracting. Searching the mattress for his eraser, he thought this might make a good page to watercolor later on—

Dean’s arm snaked around his waist. The damn bastard muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep, the words warm against Castiel’s side. Castiel immediately froze. He set the butterflies free all for two seconds, but then oh, that’s right. Nothing happened. Dean was just dreaming. This meant nothing.

Castiel sighed. At least Dean didn’t reject him outright. At least he didn’t tell him he was disgusting and wrong, or freak out on him for kissing him like that. Hell, at least Dean liked him back. Knowing that only made it slightly more tortuous to think that this had a slim chance of going anywhere in the future, but...

But Dean liked him back. If nothing else, Castiel was at least going to let himself bask in that for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Good morning, Solnyshko.”

Dean’s eyes finished crumpling open. He blinked, and looked up at Castiel with a frown.

“What’d you just call me?”

“A filthy whore.”

Dean pursed his lips. He shrugged. “Sounds about right. How long was I out?”

Castiel glanced over to his watch. “Four hours, forty-one minutes, and thirty-eight seconds.”

“Really?”

“Well, I might be off by a few seconds. But approximately, yes, that is how long you were out.”

Dean grumbled. Castiel felt like doing the same. “I told you a couple hours. No more.”

Castiel had nothing to say. He was too stuck on the fact that the filthy whore glued to his side hadn’t realized he was glued to his side. Castiel had been sitting absolutely still for so long because of it. He’d been torn between smacking or kissing him awake for hours now. He was nearly insane at this point. It wasn’t fair.

Castiel sighed. “Dean. We’ve talked about this.”

“Hm?”

“Personal space.”

“What? Oh.” The arm over his waist retreated, and immediately Castiel regretted it. Yep. He should’ve smacked him awake. God damn it.

Castiel watched as Dean rose beside him. He shut his eyes tight and rubbed them with a flat hand. He yawned. It looked like he was moving through mud. A tuft of hair was flared out over his ear. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t sweat it. Just makes you a major hypocrite is all...” Castiel replied, and yes, clear enough for Dean to hear it. “How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy.”

“Dizzy? Are you sure you don’t want to sleep more?”

“Yeah. It’s been a crap-tastic-day. Let’s friggin’ do something already.”

“Well, the rain definitely hasn’t let up. If anything, it’s gotten worse. So what do you suggest we do?”

Dean peered up at the roof of the tent, sulking at the barrage of raindrops striking down. He toyed with the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly. One knee started to bounce after he crossed his legs. “Cliff diving.”

Castiel gave him a look over his glasses. Dean smirked. “Excuse you?” Castiel asked.

“You heard me. Let’s go cliff diving. And before you say anything, I know, I remember, we agreed not do any more reckless shit. However, we did almost get eaten by a monster last night. I think that’s about as bad as it gets.”

Castiel blinked at him. “Screw it. Let’s go.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, why not.” Castiel scooted out of his sleeping bag and stood. He walked around, trying to find Dean’s spare sandals amongst the mess of towels and clothes. “Surviving a monster attack makes us impervious to any and all danger, does it not? We’re invincible now. Jumping off a cliff couldn’t possibly hurt us.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“And you’re still sitting on your filthy whore ass. So get up already and let’s go.”

“Fine. We’re going.”

Castiel decided he’d leave his glasses in their case. Wearing them in this kind of weather would make no difference. He changed into his swim trunks, while Dean made sure none of their pillows or bags touched the walls. He was already wearing gym shorts, so after slipping on his footwear and off his shirt, he was ready to go. He led Castiel out of the tent.

Outside was an absolute blur. A hissing white noise took over the air, any slight winds secondary to that. As Dean zipped up the door, he said, “Go get the canoe ready. We’re gonna need it.”

Castiel nodded and jogged over to the tree they kept the canoe under. Quickly, he removed the fishing poles and tackle box. He left the lifejackets where they were; they might actually need those. He dragged the canoe out from under the tree, and Dean helped him tip the gathered rain out. Then they rolled it back upright and carried it down to shore. From what he could see, the lake was rippled and jagged. Having launched the canoe together a handful of times now, they got out in the water in no time. Dean pointed somewhere to the left and said they’d head in that direction.

Wherever they needed to go was hidden behind a grey bulk of mist. The rain was falling so thick, Castiel could hardly make out the other side of the lake. Even if he could, it was difficult to keep his eyes open against the pelting raindrops. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I’ll steer us the right way, don’t worry.”

Rolling waves pushed them back towards shore. They had to row twice as fast in order to get anywhere. With everything working against them, Castiel feared they might veer off target and spin in circles. And they did, for a while. No clue which direction they were headed anymore, Castiel just rowed, hoping it’d get them somewhere. But they were still going in circles. He could tell. The waves kept hitting them from different sides. The wind burned his left, then this right. They were getting nowhere fast. They probably looked like idiots.

Scratch that. They were idiots.

Finally, Dean spoke up. “Why don’t you take a break for a bit? I got this.”

“Are you kidding? This is chaos, I’m not letting you do this on your own.”

“You sure? You’re lookin’ pretty spent.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re tired.”

“No, I’m helping us get there.”

“Cas. You’re not helping anyone.”

Castiel frowned. Leaving his oar dipped in the water, he looked back. Dean wore a pleading smile.

“Not to be rude, but you’re making this worse. You can barely see ten feet in front of you, you have no idea which direction we’re facing. If you want us to get anywhere, you’re gonna have to trust me, alright? Let me figure this out on my own.”

Castiel blinked through the rain. Dean held his gaze seamlessly. His hair was slicked back and out of his face. Castiel realized his own was probably a mess.

“Very well,” Castiel said, turning forward again. He drew his oar out of the lake and set it in his lap. “Lead the way.”

So Dean led the way. They reached the base of a cliff within minutes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The climb up wasn’t nearly half as bad as Castiel thought it would be. They had to clamber over a slanted wall of rock at first, it was slippery with rain, and the boulders at the top looked loose and ready to fall and crush them where they stood. But after that it wasn’t so bad. The rocks led to a trail that snaked around back, taking them through a bit of trees. The ground was muddy, and to Castiel’s surprise, it was Dean who slipped and fell on his ass instead for once. Castiel reached out a hand to help, but since he was laughing, Dean yanked him down too. Sitting in the mud they both laughed, and Castiel thought of kissing him again. But the opportunity went unrealized, and they helped each other back to their feet.

Eventually, the trail led them back out to the cliff. The trees ended in an abrupt line where the dirt became solid rock. The rain had washed the mud off their arms and legs by then. Dean led them to the edge of the cliff, Castiel following tentatively behind. Dean threatened to kill him if Castiel dared push him off. Castiel reminded him he’d probably be too dead himself if that were to happen. Together, they shut up and peered over the edge.

The sheer drop to the water below made Castiel dizzy. Watching the rain fall down and down again didn’t help. “This doesn’t look too bad,” he said, more to himself than to Dean.

Dean replied anyway, “Yeah? Then how about you jump first?”

“Um. No, I’m good. I’ll let you do the honors.”

“You sure about that? You know I’ll just wind up calling you a baby for it.”

“I’m sure. It’s not like you don’t do that anyway.”

“Ah, come on. What, is someone getting scared?”

“Yeah, and that someone is you.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Baby.”

“Jackass.”

“Thumbsucker.”

“Pant shitter.”

“Bubble blower.”

“Scaredy scaredy chicken pants.”

“What are you, six?”

“Probably. But know what I’m not?”

“What?”

“A scaredy scaredy chicken pants.”

“Wow,” Dean said, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you right now.”

“Well you better believe it and listen, hon. Because I think I’ve figured out a way to settle this.”

“Is it a gentle shove in the right direction?”

“No. Unhand me, damn it. Nobody’s shoving anyone.” Castiel stepped away from the ledge for extra measure. “We’ll jump together.”

Dean seemed to consider that a moment, glancing down at the water one last time. “Alright, fine. We’ll jump together.”

Castiel followed him back to the treeline. They scraped any remaining mud off their sandals onto the rock, if Dean’s slip on the trail was anything to go off of. Then they stood shoulder to shoulder. They faced the cliff head on. They couldn’t even see the lake from here. Just the rain that fed it.

Castiel felt Dean’s fingers curl between his. It made his stomach drop a bit more than it already had. He shot Dean a look, confused.

“So I know you won’t back out like the baby you are,” Dean explained.

“Oh, right.” Castiel said, tightening his own grasp. Of course that’s all it was. “Dean, might I ask: have you ever done this before?”

“What, hold your hand? I think you’d know the answer to that—”

“I meant jump off this cliff, dumbass.”

“Oh. No, I haven’t. But I’ve seen other people up here before, and as far as I know they made it. So. You know. Fingers crossed.”

“...As far as you know.”

“Yup.”

“This is stupid.”

“I’m not gonna deny that.”

“And with our luck, we’re probably gonna slip.”

“Probably.”

“Let’s do it.”

Dean grinned. “Let’s do it.”

On the count of three, they ran. Castiel couldn’t deny that he had second thoughts along the way, but he had to ignore them. He had to ignore the fear pumping through his blood. Ignore the voice screaming at him to stop. Because Dean was going to jump, and that was something neither of them could do on their own.

They jumped. For those first few seconds, the sky encased all that Castiel could see. It was very wide and very grey. For a single instant, he and Dean were flying. Then the lake was rushing towards them, and Castiel refused to close his eyes. Dean hollered, prompting him to join. It wasn’t until they hit the surface that they stopped, their eyes forced shut and their mouths filled with water.

They sunk deeper and longer than Castiel was comfortable with, but he supposed that was the point. He finally realized just how loud the rain had been, as it was entirely silent down here, aside from the blood pounding in his ears. The water was freezing. By some miracle they missed the rocks and floated safely to the surface.

They rose above the waves coughing. “Holy shit,” Dean said, “that was awesome! You okay, Cas?”

“No. That was terrifying. Have you seen my soul? I think it left my body.”

“Ha! So you were scared.”

“Of course I was! Don’t be a liar and say you weren’t.”

“Fine. I’ll say it. Maybe I was scared, too.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Close enough.”

Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling. He looked up at the sky and back at the cliff. “Let’s get out of this water. Stuff’s freezing.”

Dean released their hands to start swimming. It wasn’t until then that Castiel realized they’d still been holding.

They found a spot beneath the cliff to keep from the rain (not that that mattered, though, since they were already soaked). It was a bar of sand that seemed made for two, as they fit rather snug. Their canoe wouldn’t be too far of a walk away either, so that was nice. Dean sat with his back against the rock. Castiel hunched forward and crossed his legs. Neither said a word, and Castiel watched as the waves nipped at Dean’s heels.

He wondered if Dean had thought about what happened earlier. He wondered if they were thinking of the same thing right this moment. He wondered if Dean still wanted to pretend nothing happened.

Well, enough stewing about it. Now was the time for some answers.

Fidgeting with the strap on his sandal, Castiel spoke up. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

Dean waited a moment to reply. “I just remembered Jane still has my guitar. I’m thinkin’ I gotta get it back before she takes off.”

Castiel dropped his shoulders. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Why, what’re you thinkin’ about?”

Castiel sighed. He brought his knees to his chest, and started drawing lines in the sand.

“ _Nothing._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rain stopped. Not right away, not out of nowhere, but gradually the rain died out. The earth was left smelling wet and washed. Everything was covered in dew. The clouds were no longer ugly grey smudges, smeared across the sky. They balled into fluffy white shapes, and they were beginning to part, just in time to welcome the setting sun.

Before they did anything else, Dean made sure he got his guitar back. That led to him and Janice chatting for a while, of course, but not as long as Castiel expected. She gave them a couple peanut butter and honey sandwiches in thanks for helping her and Krissy set up camp. She invited them to stick around for a fire, but Dean politely declined, saying they had their own plans for the rest of the day. Whatever those plans were, he didn’t say. Not that Castiel asked, but still, he was curious what Dean wanted to do other than talk to a pretty girl all evening long.

It wasn’t until they were back at their site that Dean said he wanted to visit the island one last time. Castiel liked the idea, so they packed some more food and headed out. The rain was still pouring by then, so they made sure to wear their jackets.  

By the time they reached Mars, the rain died down to a light drizzle. It was still enough to make Dean keep his guitar safe in its case, and enough for Castiel to keep his sketchbook in his satchel. But they were hungry, so it definitely wasn’t enough to stop them from breaking out the food. They sat on a damp, dead tree trunk and ate their peanut butter and honey sandwiches and chips. Dean let Castiel have the last cup of mixed fruit, long as he still shared the blueberries and occasional strawberry.

Now the rain was gone, and they were sitting on their jackets in the grass. Dean had his guitar out, strumming out a David Bowie song Castiel begged him to play. “I don’t even know how that one goes,” was his ridiculous excuse, and to that Castiel called bullshit. “ _Changes_ is a piano-led song, Cas. Not a guitar one.”

“You can play the piano too, right? So when has that ever stopped you?” he rebutted. “Besides, you’re talented enough. You’ll figure it out.”

Dean hadn’t disappointed him yet. Castiel smiled as he returned to his drawing. He was nearly done coloring it in. He’d settled on coloring Dean’s skin a deep cerulean, only ever deviating in pressure and value to define form. Now he was going over it with a white gel pen to add the stars. Some were larger than others, some were hardly noticeable. But the ones he paid most attention to fell beneath Dean’s eyes. He was careful to connect the freckles with the thinnest of lines. They’d be lost otherwise.

He wanted to finish the drawing before the sun set completely. One, because he needed to see in order to work on it. Two, this seemed like the right time and place to finally show Dean. He was playing his guitar, and out here they were alone. Castiel took his time in getting the final touches down, though. He didn’t want to ruin it, especially when he’d made it this far along without mistake.

Dean gave up on _Changes_ halfway through. Castiel would’ve scolded him, but then Dean started a song loved even more.

It was _Across the Universe._

Castiel hummed. He bobbed his head slowly and melted in the sound of the guitar, the flow of the notes. Dean started singing, and there wasn’t a thing that could stop Castiel from listening.

“ ‘ _Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe…_ ’ ”

Dean sang the words with care. His voice was soft, yet firmly established. Far away, yet rooted. Every note was flawless. God, when he actually tried, Dean had the most amazing voice. By the time he reached the second verse, Castiel had to set his drawing down and watch.

Dean’s eyes were closed. He was lost in an entirely different world, but his fingers never missed a note. Castiel revelled in the melody, in the warmth of his voice. The chorus came in Dean’s own personal sound and went again, leaving Castiel with a chill up his spine. Dean was performing this song just for him. Nothing could be more intimate than that.

“ ‘ _Nothing’s gonna change my world_ …’ ”

Castiel must’ve been ogling once the song faded away. Drooling was also a possibility. Dean looked startled enough, after all. “What?” he asked, scratching his neck.

“You’re perfect.”

“Uhhh,” Dean laughed nervously. His face was quick to blush. “Thanks, I guess? That’s...that’s very forward of you...”

Castiel just stared. _Yes. Take the compliment, you damned, perfect fool._

Dean cleared his throat. “So. You finally done with that drawing?”

“Oh. Um....” Castiel picked up his sketchbook. He did a quick once over of the page. Everything looked ready. “Yeah. You can see it now.”

Dean set his guitar in its case and walked over. Castiel made room for him on his jacket. He kept the page up against his chest as Dean settled beside him.

“Alright,” Dean said, reaching out a hand. “Gimme.”

“Promise you won’t think it’s cheesy and dumb.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Just hand it over.”

Castiel hesitated, but he handed over the sketchbook. If there was one person he felt comfortable sharing his art with, it was Dean. But even then, he felt embarrassed to share this one. Dean looked over the page with an attentive gaze. It made Castiel want to hide. He could hear Dean’s criticisms crystal clear. _What am I, a smurf? This looks nothing like me. You got it all wrong._

But then he smiled.

“Wow. You’re an awesome artist, Cas. This is beautiful.” He gave Castiel a nudge, then continued looking at the page. “Definitely worth the wait.”

Castiel relaxed. Dean already knew; there was no point in keeping things secret anymore. “None of that is my doing,” he said. He received a confused look in return.

“You’re already beautiful, Dean. It’s the same as it was with the map: I simply drew what was in front of me. What is already there to see.”

Dean didn’t say a word. If anything, he turned to stone.

Wonderful. Castiel shied his gaze away, busying himself with his drawing supplies. He shoved all the pencils in their pouch and zipped that shut. He went to put it in his satchel, and—

“Cas.”

Castiel turned to reply, but his heart stopped. Dean was planting a kiss on his forehead.

It was Castiel’s turn to become stone, apparently. Dean backed away, staring Castiel down in a way he’d never stared at him before.

“What...what was that?” Castiel squeaked.

Dean laughed softly. “Same thing you did to me, you dork.” He set the sketchbook down. “You know, I think this is the first time you’ve openly flirted with me.”

“Okay,” Castiel breathed, “...and?”

“And I like it.”

“Oh.” Castiel felt a grin sneak up on him. He tried to hide it. He failed.

“What?” Dean asked, luring Castiel’s gaze back in place.

“Well, first of all, that was hardly the first time. And secondly, I wouldn’t exactly consider that a flirtation. I was just telling you the truth.”

“Ah,” Dean nodded slowly, “the truth…

“I like the _truth_ , then.” Dean leant in awfully close, and by awfully, Castiel meant exceptionally. A hand came up to his face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. Oh god. Dean was so close. He was so warm. His eyes were so very green.

“You wouldn’t mind telling it to me more often, would you?”

Yep. Cardiac arrest. He was well on his way to cardiac arrest. He barely managed to shake his head. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

At that, Dean smirked. It was the last thing Castiel saw before the space between them closed entirely.

And Castiel could’ve sworn, he’d died right then and there and gone straight to Heaven. They moved their mouths as one, and Castiel just about melted into the kiss. Then Dean dipped him into his arms, and Castiel had to hold back a whimper. Because Dean was so tender. Dean was so unabashedly sweet. A hundred years of this wouldn’t be enough. Yet it was everything Castiel ever could’ve hoped for.

The kiss slowed to a halt, and Dean was the first to pull away. Castiel missed it immediately. Opening his eyes, he found that his glasses were fogged and smudged and god damn it. This was a highly unfavorable distraction right now. He just wanted to see Dean, not this crap.

Laughing, Dean removed his glasses for him. Good. Castiel couldn’t have cared less where he set them down. Hell, they could’ve been tossed in the lake and he wouldn’t have cared. Damn things were a pain anyway.

Chest pounding, Castiel waited for Dean’s hand to get reacquainted with his face. It returned soon enough, and everything was right in the world all over again. Inching closer, Dean spoke. “Guess I wouldn’t mind either.”

Castiel eagerly introduced him to their third ever kiss. Dean didn’t stop him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll never get this right.”

“You’ll get it eventually. Just keep tryin’.”

Castiel pouted as he was given another handful of rocks. The lake stretched before him, calm, still, and downright unskippable. “This is going to be my fiftieth attempt, by the way. I’ve been counting. And I have yet to skip a single rock.”

Dean patted his shoulder in an act of encouragement. “Ah c’mon, Cas. It’s like riding a bike. Once you get it, you get it.”

“Oh right. Like riding a bike.” Castiel wound back and threw a stone. It sunk immediately, no surprise there. “Because that went over smoothly. Do you suppose I’ll break my wrist here too, then?”

“You broke your wrist because Gabriel doesn’t know how to teach. Probably didn’t know how to ride a bike either.”

“I broke my wrist because you pushed me and my sparkling, brand new, soon-to-be-destroyed bike down the hill of my driveway. You forgetful fuck.”

“Oh my god, that’s right,” Dean laughed. “Hey, I thought you were ready for the advanced course.”

“Well you thought wrong.”

“At least I helped you get back up the hill after that.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“No problem!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. The next rock was just as flat as the rest. It still didn’t skip.

“You’re not keepin’ your wrist level,” Dean said.

“Probably because you broke it ten years ago!”

“Excuses.”

This was getting frustrating. Castiel was throwing the rocks with little to no effort at this point. Seemed like every time he tried, it just got worse. Out of patience, Castiel chucked the rocks he had left all at once.

“Skip, dammit!”

The shimmering sunset ate them up.

Castiel sighed. He just wanted to get back to kissing Dean.

“Here,” Dean said, coming up behind him. He placed yet another damned rock in his hand. Castiel wanted to throw it at his face. Petulantly, he situated it between his forefinger and thumb instead.

Then Dean held that hand, and suddenly this wasn’t so bad.

“Remember when you tried out for discus and horribly failed? Same thing’s happening here.”

“Dean. Why must you insist on bringing up such horrible failures?”

“Because it helps you learn. Now. You gotta angle it up a bit,” he continued, guiding him as such. “Now keep it there. Only flick your wrist forward, not that side-to-side crap you keep doing. Keep it straight out like this otherwise.”

“Got it. Anything else I should know?”

“I mean. You keep stickin’ your ass about a mile out every time you throw. That might be the problem.” Dean tried hiding his smirk. He failed. “But it is pretty cute.”

As much as that made him blush, Castiel was too done with this to care. “Of course! It’s all in the ass. Make way, Dean. I think I’ll stick it out even more. That always seems to solve life’s problems.”

Dean snickered, but said no more. Castiel waited until he was a good ten feet back before widening his stance. Then he arched his back, his shoulders rolling back, and yes, his ass very much sticking out.

Dean laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, winding his arm back. Nudging his glasses in place, he stared the lake down. Its golden flecks dared him to close his eyes. “Yet here I am.”

Castiel cemented what Dean told him—angle up, wrist straight—and chucked the rock. It skipped once. Then twice. Then a third time. Then the lake ate it up, leaving ripples in the waves as the only evidence as to what he’d just accomplished.

Castiel gasped. He stood up straight and threw his arms in the air. “Well what do you know, it worked! I did it, yes, I finally did it. History was made today, ladies and gentleman. That’s right, you heard it here first, folks. Castiel Novak can now skip rocks.”

“Wow. Such a momentous day.”

“You know, your lack of enthusiasm is really ruining the moment,” Castiel said. Despite that, he spun to face Dean, grinning. “I’ve reached a milestone. Ha, get it? Milestone. Because, you know...rocks, stones...don’t look at me like that. I bet you’re proud of me. You’re proud of me, right? You could at least act like—”

Dean shut him up with a kiss. Castiel stumbled backwards out of surprise, but Dean was quick to catch him by the small of his back. Closing his eyes, Castiel let himself fall into Dean’s arms, let Dean fall into his. Just as he fully grasped what was happening, Dean pulled away. And that was a shame; they could’ve gone on for minutes. At least they kept in each other’s embrace, though. That was enough.

“Okay,” Castiel breathed against Dean’s mouth. “Moment unruined.”

“Congratulations, Cas. You just did something most people learn to do when they’re seven. You’re right to feel so proud.”

Castiel frowned. “Moment un-unruined.”

“Whoops,” Dean laughed. His fingers played with the edges of Castiel’s sweater. Castiel had to resist flinching, as he was prone to feeling ticklish as Dean’s fingers ghosted over his sides. But then they settled firmly on his hips. Their eyes locked on each other’s, and Castiel swore his knees would’ve buckled, had Dean not been holding him so tight. “Will kissin’ you again fix it?”

“Maybe. You should do it again, though. Just to be sure.”

“Yeah…but that’d be too easy.” At that, Dean let him go. He turned away and grabbed his backpack from the gravel. “It’s getting dark. So c’mon, let’s get off this island and back to camp.”

Castiel stood motionless, soundless. He shivered from the sliver of skin Dean’s fingers left exposed. “That was rude,” he said rather blatantly, not really meaning to.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ You can’t just say that, and then not—Dean. Don’t walk away. Get back here.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Castiel shot him a look. He narrowed his eyes. “It’s called human decency. Visit your local library and look it up.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, alright?” Before turning away to walk again, Dean winked. “Now hurry up. I wanna get back and get started on dinner. I’m friggin’ starving.”

_You damn tease._

Puffing his cheeks, Castiel snatched his jacket from the ground and jogged to catch up with Dean. “We still having breakfast for dinner?” he asked once they fell in step together.

“Might as well. I’m guessin’ we won’t have enough time to make it tomorrow, before we leave.”

“Oh. Right.” Gosh, they were leaving tomorrow already? Castiel deflated at the thought. He didn’t want to go home, they’d only just arrived! And he wasn’t even going to Chicago for another week. “We could stay a few extra days, couldn’t we?”

“Uh, probably not. Your mom would have me arrested for kidnap.”

“But I’d say you didn’t kidnap me. That it was my choice.”

“She’d figure out a way, I’m sure.”

“She thinks I’m at Balthazar’s.”

“Okay, but do you really think he’d stick his neck out for you a few more days?”

“He better. Gabriel paid him.”

Dean scoffed. “Your family, man.”

Their conversation fell silent for the rest of the way to the canoe. They passed their shirts-for-flags along the way, and Castiel thought of taking them down. He and Dean wouldn’t be coming back, not for a while anyway. But he kept quiet about it. It was their mark, after all. Their monument on the island named Mars. Even after all that wind and rain, the flags managed to stand upright. Over time that probably won’t be the case, but for now that’s where they’d stay. _Something_ had to stay.

And Castiel had better start getting used to leaving things behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Making out with Dean Winchester wasn’t at all what Castiel expected. Don’t get him wrong, it was mighty glorious to fantasize about. Really, it was. But actually doing it...man. It was far from anything he’d ever imagined.

How? It was so. Much. better.

For one thing, the fact that it was even happening right now struck him as incredible. Sure, Castiel had the smallest bit of hope from time to time, but never had he expected this to actually occur. It was delightful, it was sudden, and it was breathtaking. Castiel hoped Dean squeezing his side like that wouldn’t wake him from this dream. Because this was just too good to be true.

It wasn’t before long that Castiel discovered Dean was a sneaky little bitch. He’d start with the softest brush of the lips, the most gentle movements. He was the sweetest thing in the world, and while his mouth worked to tell Castiel just that, the rest of his body closed in. Arms folded around his sides, fingers pinched his skin, and knees bumped against his knees. This distracted Castiel from the way the kiss deepened, and whether Dean did this on purpose or not, it freaking worked. Next thing Castiel knew, they were well on their way to scrunching together completely, and it was impossible to stop.

Castiel was also quick to learn that their hands played as much a part in this as their mouths. Their hands even met at one point, but Dean’s never stayed in place. One minute they’d be roaming his back, squeezing his sides the next, and hiking up his chest after that. They seemed to favor Castiel’s hips most, and if they weren’t there, they were probably raking through his hair. Castiel preferred to keep one hand wrapped around Dean’s waist, while the other cradled the side of his neck. Once it occurred to him he’d never touched Dean in these places before, he was officially a lost cause.

Dean dragged his teeth across Castiel’s lower lip, and Castiel moaned. God, if Dean didn’t stop doing that, Castiel swore, he was going to lose his freaking mind. Dean’s hands fell to his hips again, pinning him in place. They pressed even closer, to the point where it seemed they’d phase right through each other if they kept at it. Did Castiel mention he was sitting in Dean’s lap? Yeah. That was pretty important.

The heat of the fire felt hot against Castiel’s side, but Dean’s tongue against his throat felt hotter. Castiel gasped. He tipped his chin to the stars, giving Dean the room to explore to his heart’s content. But after one trip down to his collarbone and back, Dean kept close to his jaw. Eventually he settled on Castiel’s pulse point. And Dean, that son of a bitch, he must have made it his sole purpose in life to drive Castiel insane. Because he sure as hell was doing a hell of a job.

Guttural moans escaped them both, and Castiel had to recapture Dean’s lips. They were wet and plump and still tasted like breakfast for dinner. They breathed the very force of life into his mouth. It was all teeth and tongue from there, the last bit of coherent thought abandoning Castiel entirely—

_BAM!_

Castiel jumped. Dean winced. Their ears rang, and they stopped immediately. Castiel opened his eyes, finding Dean’s right side covered in refried beans.

“What the…”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled, cupping his mouth. His eyes were shut tight in pain.

“What happened? Dean? Are you alright?”

“Just about bit my tongue off is all. So I’m swell, thanks.”

“Oh. That might’ve been me. Sorry.”

“Yeah, that was _definitely_ you...”

Castiel apologized again, but he was growing increasingly concerned with what the hell just happened. Because that was an extremely loud bang. Almost sounded like a gunshot. And—what the—his side was coated in beans, too!

Oh, that’s right. They were still hungry after dinner, so Castiel put the last can of beans over the fire. Just as Dean told him to. It must’ve exploded. The can itself was blown in half, after all.

“You didn’t remove the lid, did you?” Dean asked.

“N-no,” Castiel admitted.

“Oh my god…” Dean muttered. He was dabbing his tongue for blood. “You fucking idiot.”

“Well it’s not like you gave me any time! You were all over me as soon as we sat down! Not that I’m complaining...”

“Hey, I told you I’d make up for un-unruining your moment earlier, didn’t I? And it’s not my fault you were being adorable as hell.”

“Hell doesn’t sound all that adorable to me, personally.”

“That wasn’t my point.” Dean guided Castiel off his lap, and Castiel pouted. The mood was so ruined. “With that big brain of yours, you’d think you would’ve been just a smidge more careful. At least thought it through.”

“Do you have any idea how distracting you are? My brain doesn’t stand a chance, no matter how big.”

“Whatever. I’m the injured one here, so naturally I get to blame you.”

“Oh, toughen up.”

Dean got up and walked over to the table. Castiel stayed where he was on the log, still a bit woozy. He placed a hand over his neck, feeling his pulse point burn from all the attention. Recalling the way Dean bit him there, the way he moaned against his skin...it made Castiel’s stomach churn—in a good way.

Dean returned with a bucket full of water, and he started pouring it over the flames.

“What are you doing? We just started that fire.”

“Grab our towels from the tent, would you? We’re gonna need ‘em.”

“For what?”

“Just do it.”

Without further argument, Castiel did as he was told. Luckily, the towels hadn’t fallen from where they’d been hung earlier, so they were nice and dry. That also made them easier to find in the dark. Castiel tucked them in his arms, stepped out, and zipped up the tent. Dean had the fire reduced to ashes and smoke by then.

“C’mon,” he said, taking Castiel’s hand. He led them through the brush and down towards the lake. Castiel didn’t quite like where this was heading, but he was too caught up in Dean holding his hand to care.

Once they reached the shore, Dean released his hand and kicked off his boots. His socks, jacket and shirt were next to come off. As he unbuttoned his jeans, he asked, “You gonna strip with me, or am I gonna have to help you?”

“...I’m not jumping in the lake,” Castiel said. “It’s gotta be freezing.”

“How else’re you gonna get rid of the beans in your hair?”

“Easy. I’ll get another bucket of water ready.”

Dean gave him a look. “Lame.”

“Yes, but it’d get the job done.”

“Now where is the fun in that?” Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder for balance, and stepped out of his jeans. Seriously, this idiot was going to suffer from hypothermia. Castiel stayed as he was, firmly planted and fully clothed.

“I’m offended, Cas,” Dean said. He had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers. “You’re really gonna pass up the opportunity to go skinny dipping with me? Truly, I’m hurt.”

...Goddamn it. Looks like this idiot was getting a case of hypothermia, too.

Castiel glanced around to make sure no one but Dean was in sight. It was pointless, the night was as dark as it could get, and he didn’t have his glasses on. All he could make out was a vague mess of trees. There was a fire glowing in Janice and Kristian’s site, and in another further down. But they were far enough, right? And fire that bright at this dark of an hour usually cloaked anything beyond its light...

“We’re fine. No one’s gonna see us,” Dean reassured him. “Hell, I can’t even see us.”

“If you say so…” At that, Castiel started undressing.

Dean managed to convince him that it was better to get this over with all at once. So, naked and stupid, they charged into the lake and didn’t stop till the water reached their chins. Castiel had an extremely hard time not cursing at how _fucking cold_ it was, and he would’ve done it, had Dean not come up out of nowhere and dunk his head underwater. So Castiel cursed at him instead, wishing eternal head lice upon his firstborn child.

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Dean coaxed, reaching for his shoulders.

Castiel splashed him. “Get away from me.”

Dean laughed, “Sorry.” He did as he was told and swam out further. He disappeared under the water a moment, resurfacing a few more feet back. Shaking the water from his hair, he whooped. “Shit man, that is cold.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He glanced up at the stars. “Takes me a while to notice a lot of things…”

It was no mystery what he meant by that.

They scrambled out of the lake soon enough. It was far too cold for either of them to stand it much longer. Dean was the brave soul to admit that this was pretty stupid of them, and he suggested that they hurry the hell up with the de-beaning and get out. So, with their clothes bunched under their arms and towels wrapped around their waist, they ran back to the tent.

Castiel changed into his pajamas facing a wall. He assumed Dean did the same thing. His fingers and the rest of him were trembling from the cold, so it was a bit of a challenge buttoning up his shirt. Once he turned, he found Dean crouched by the mattress, unzipping his sleeping bag.

Dean paused a moment. “You wouldn’t mind if we uh...shared, would you?”

Castiel grinned. “How else are we going to huddle for warmth?”

“Fair point.”

Castiel joined Dean on the ground and unzipped his sleeping bag too. Then they splayed one over the other and crawled underneath. Comfortable as it was, Castiel had to cup his hands and blow warm air onto them. He couldn’t stop shivering. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Even through the dark, he could see the piteous look Dean gave him.

“What?” Castiel frowned. “Don’t tell me you aren’t cold.”

Dean just laughed. Next thing Castiel knew, he was wrapped tight in two arms, and his face was buried in the collar of Dean’s shirt. “C’mere already.”

Castiel tried not to freak out. He was absolutely failing at that internally, of course, but he kept his cool otherwise. And he could continue keeping it, even when Dean ran his hands over his sides. When their legs tangled together. When pretty much everything else rubbed together. Yep. Totally chill.

“Cute hat,” Dean said.

“Thank you.” Castiel pulled it further over his ears. “Charlie made it for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was a going-away present.”

“Oh.” Castiel felt him fiddle with the knitted fabric. “She didn’t make me a hat.”

“Well, Dean, to put it simply, you have to be going somewhere in order to receive a going-away present. Kind of the point, in case you didn’t get the memo.”

“Alright. Can it, smartass.”

Castiel laughed. “Just ask her, if you want one that bad. I’m sure she won’t say no.”

Dean hummed; Castiel felt it vibrate against his forehead. Although he was still shivering, he felt the warmth emanating from his own face. For once his blush was good for something. Rubbing his hands together, Castiel scooted closer timidly. He resisted the urge to press a kiss to Dean’s chest.

Castiel closed his eyes. He was going to miss the chirping bugs, the wind hushing the leaves, the cool, fresh air. He was already getting so used to it all. He could spend the rest of his life in a place like this. Just him, Dean, and the stars at night to keep them company. That would be enough.

Dean felt so warm and toasty already. Castiel listened for a heartbeat behind his quiet, slow breaths. It felt like he was lying on a cloud, his back and arms being stroked by an angel. His hands were gathered in Dean’s soon enough. Over tangled fingers their eyes met. Without breaking their gaze, Dean pressed his lips against the knuckle on Castiel’s thumb.

Castiel didn’t want to leave. He wanted the time to get used to this, too.

“You gotta be home by noon, right?” Dean asked. He must’ve been reading his mind.

“Right,” Castiel replied, trying not to think about it too much further.

“What for?”

“For my mother to retain what’s left of her sanity.”

“Ah. No other reason? No appointments, no family plans?”

“Not really, no. That’s just the time she wants me back by.”

“Lame.”

“I know. So let’s just stay here.”

Dean let out a quiet laugh. He gave up Castiel’s hands to hold his waist. “I wish. But Crowley expects me back at the shop Monday. Bright and early.”

“Is he crazy? No one’s going to get their car fixed on a Monday morning.”

“With the cars he sells, yeah. Everyone always needs to get ‘em fixed.”

At that, Castiel grumbled. His crumpling frown was soothed soon after, as Dean leant in with another laugh. It was his turn to bury himself against Castiel’s chest, apparently. “I’d like to ask you that question now.” Dean’s words tickled his skin. “For winning the card game yesterday.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. He’d completely forgotten about that.

“And you can’t lie, so don’t even think about it.”

“Alright then, ask away.”

Dean fiddled with the top button of Castiel’s shirt a moment. He was nervous; Castiel could tell.

He cleared his throat. “Do you actually see me getting anywhere in life?”

Castiel’s frown returned. “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugged. “You’re leavin’ for college, I’m not. You’re working towards a future, I’m just...stuck. Everyone else has a plan. I don’t. I’ll probably be workin’ in that damn shop the rest of my life.”

“You’re staying home to look after Sam, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that wouldn’t be the rest of your life, now would it? He’s going to want to go to college too, I’m sure. Then you’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

“That’s what I’m saying. He hasn’t even touched his first day of high school, and he’s already looking at Standford, Yale. Everyone’s—

Dean sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t see myself amounting to much of anything once he’s gone, too.”

Keeping his arms around Dean, Castiel backed away and looked him in the eye. “With an attitude like that, you will amount to nothing.”

Dean gave him a look, but nodded, as if that was the answer he suspected all along. But oh no siree, Castiel was far from done. He cupped Dean’s face with one hand and stroked his back with another. He offered a subtle smile. “But, with an attitude opposite of that, I know you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen it done time and time again, Dean. The moment you decide you want something, it might as well already yours. And that’s not because you’re stubborn or whatever. It’s because you’re dedicated. You’ve got heart, and a lot of it.

“This will undoubtedly sound stupid once I admit it out loud, but...ever since I met you, I’ve seen you as my own personal miracle. You’ve done things I have yet to see anyone else do. You’ve shown me many things no one else ever could’ve hoped to show me. I have no doubt that’ll carry on throughout the rest of your life with whoever you meet. You are unique, and you are powerful. And if you ever find yourself thwarted in whatever efforts you pursue, and knowing you, that’s a big ‘if,’ just know that you’ll at least stand as an enormous inspiration for someone else. Because without you, I wouldn’t even be on my way to college next week. I wouldn’t be chasing my own far fetched dreams. You’ve made a lot of things possible for me, Dean. Things that I never even would’ve thought of on my own. So you sure as hell can do that for yourself.

“And...wherever you are in the future, I like to think that I’d be there, too. I’d like to be with you, in whatever form ‘with you’ takes. You’re my best friend, and you’re the best one I’ll ever have. It’d be more than a downright shame if we ever disappeared from each other.”

Castiel pawed his way through the dark, until he felt Dean’s hand folding in his. “So whatever you decide to do, just know that you are more than capable, and that I’ll be there with you too. For as long as you want me to be.”

Castiel smiled, and—that was strange. Dean never looked at him like _that_ before. His eyes were wide, but as he neared his gaze sharpened. Castiel would’ve froze, but at this point he was over worrying that simply breathing on him would ruin the moment. Instead he closed his eyes and let Dean guide them into a kiss. Chaste, and deep.

Dean breathed out, the warmth blooming from it overwhelming, and Castiel swallowed it up. He let go of Dean’s hand in favor of his waist, pulling their bodies close. Heart pounding, he resisted the urge to squirm as he felt a hand travel down to his outer thigh. Because he was ticklish there too, dammit, and he wasn’t about to let Dean know that. Not this soon. But he didn’t want to distract himself from it, either. He wanted to feel anything Dean was willing to offer. He wanted to feel everything.

A gentle squeeze brought Castiel back to the matter at hand. He pulled Dean even closer. The second they were flush against each other, Dean took his thigh and hooked it around his hips. Humming, Castiel let him fall forward until Dean was lying on top of him completely. Their lips parted from the transition, but they were quick to fix that. Dean rolled over him like a wave, coaxing another small hum from Castiel’s throat. Dean was more than welcome to continue in this manner, and to Castiel’s delight, he did. In no way was he ever rough. In no way did he overstep a boundary. Every movement, every advance wasn’t a demand but an invite. A promise that he’ll be there for Castiel, too.

God, did Castiel love him.

The hand roaming his chest trailed down, stopping at the edge of his shirt. Dean reached in for the skin of his side, and Castiel sucked in a sharp breath. His hand was _freezing._  It made Castiel shudder. What made it worse—or better, perhaps—was the contrasting heat just beneath that skin, building every time Dean dipped down on him.

“Dean…” Castiel breathed, biting his own lip. He clenched tight on Dean’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled as he kissed the corner of his mouth. “That got away from me…”

“Oh, no need to apologize. Trust me.”

Dean laughed as he went for another kiss. Despite Castiel’s obvious vote of confidence, the amplitude of his movements softened and slowed. Soon enough, Dean was perfectly still. He laid his head in the crook of Castiel’s neck. He breathed out soft.

“Thanks,” he said, peppering lazy kisses, “what you said...it means a lot.”

“Of course. You know me, just serving up some truth tea.”

“Oh my god.”

“What? That’s what you told me to do, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” Dean lifted his head, and smiled down at him. He planted a kiss on Castiel’s forehead. “Dork.”

Dean crawled off of him soon after, but he clung to his side. With an arm and leg wrapped around him snug, Castiel draped his own arm around Dean’s shoulders and reveled in his presence. He needed to revel in it all he could now; the chance would be gone tomorrow.

Then it hit him. He and Dean were snuggling. They just made out— _again_. Oh god. If that didn’t make him smile like an idiot, nothing would.

Something was still unclear, though. Playing with Dean’s hair, Castiel cleared his throat. “Hey, Dean? Would it be alright if I asked you something now?”

“Go for it.”

“How long have you felt this way about me?”

Dean shifted in place. “Little over a year.”

“A year??”

“Well, yes and no. Kinda hard to say, actually. It’s been on and off, I didn’t know what it was for a while, and I hardly even let myself think about it till just recently. But yeah, a year, and then some. S’been going on since April of last year.”

...Huh. That certainly raised a lot of questions.

But for now, all that mattered was that Dean was exceptionally good at cuddling, and that Castiel was exactly in the cuddling mood. He continued playing with a tuft of Dean’s hair, until his hand was swatted away and he was told to stop.

Castiel laughed. “But I always let you mess with my hair.”

“Nah. You’re crazy.”

“And you’re unfair.”

Dean didn’t say anything further to defend himself. Castiel took that as permission to play with his hair again. Dean grumbled, but he seemed to accept the circumstances. He nuzzled Castiel’s chest, making the heart beneath beat faster. The longer Dean stayed like that, half lying on him, half holding him, it grew more soothing than it did butterfly-inducing. So Castiel’s heart rate returned to normal soon enough. The blankets and sleeping bags were thick and heavy, helping them feel more packed together than they already were. The cool air brushing against Castiel’s face was refreshing against the cozying warmth that otherwise surrounded him whole. Dean searched for a hand with his own. Castiel folded them together.

They laid like that for a long time.

The perpetual static of rustling leaves would’ve lulled them both to sleep. But then a pair of approaching footsteps broke through the hush.

“Dean Samuel Winchester, I swear, if that was you settin’ off firecrackers again, I am _not_ skippin’ the police call this time.”

Dean groaned. “Great…”

The footsteps stopped right outside the tent. Whoever it was, she was wielding a flashlight. Its beam shone through the walls, just enough to light the imploring expression on Dean’s face. _Help me_ , he mouthed.

“Dean! Your butt better be out here in the next three seconds, or I’m slashin’ a tire.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Sheesh…”

Castiel frowned, watching as Dean dragged himself up into a sitting position. Then Dean helped him up too. “C’mon, Cas. Time for you to meet Ellen.”  

 

 

* * *

 

 

This was amusing.

They were hardly outside the tent for half a minute, and Dean might as well have turned into a sulking child about to be put in timeout. This so-called Ellen lady was still barking her threats, and she wasn’t about to stop. Castiel simply folded his arms and made sure he wouldn’t wind up in the crosshairs. He did feel kinda bad though. Someone around here definitely ruined this woman’s night.

“I have half the camp jammed in my office right now, scared out of their minds that some lunatic is runnin’ around firing a gun,” she said. “There’s angry parents and screamin’ kids, and every last one of them thinkin’ someone’s getting killed tonight. So for the love of God, please tell me that loud bang was just you messin’ with firecrackers again.”

Dean pursed his lips. “...That was not me messing with firecrackers again.”

The sigh that came from Ellen probably caused a hurricane in another country. “Boy, I am _not_ joking around.”

“Neither am I.”

“So if it wasn’t firecrackers, what was it then, huh? Fireworks? An actual gun?”

“How does ‘none of the above’ sound?”

“Like a load of bull.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. Because whatever it was, it wasn’t me.”

“You’re tellin’ me you didn’t hear it?”

“Hear what??”

Castiel couldn’t see anything beyond her blinding flashlight, but he was sure Ellen scrutinized them. “You’re either deaf or stupid,” she said. “But I know full well that you can hear, and lying to me is somethin’ a stupid person would do. So I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “There’s a hundred other people staying here right now. So why’s it gotta be me?”

“Because every other time somethin’ around here’s happened, it _was_ you.”

“That’s unfair.”

“It’s what some would call ‘patterns in criminal behaviour.’ And the only reason you haven’t gotten in serious trouble over this crap is because someone’s gotta look out for your little brother, and I know for a fact that your father won’t do it. But you’re eighteen now, and this is gettin’ really, really old. Either you straighten up your act, or…”

Ellen went on reprimanding Dean. Castiel was still trying to figure out what she was even talking about. Firecrackers? A gunshot? He couldn’t remember hearing anything like that. Nothing really stuck out, aside from when the—

Oh. When the can of beans exploded. Yeah. That was probably it.

And it was Castiel’s fault, too. Crap.

“I mean honestly, Dean! Why can’t you find better things to do on your weekends off, besides wreakin’ havoc and blowin’ shit up?”

“For the last time, it wasn’t me!”

Castiel lifted a finger to interject. “Um, actually—”

“I just finished talking to a girl in twenty-seven. One site over, Dean. Just one site. And she said the noise came straight from here. So one more time. Just once more, tell me that it wasn’t you.”

“It. Wasn’t. Me!”

“Right. You know, I’d say your father raised you better. But who would I be kidding?”

“God, would you please stop bringin’ him up—”

“It was me!”

Ellen and Dean shut up. Castiel immediately shrunk under their stares. He cleared his throat to fill the silence. “…It. I mean, it was an accident?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Ellen asked.

“My name is Castiel. I’m Dean’s friend.” He reached out a hand. “Um. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Ellen…” she said. They shook hands tentatively. “So Castiel, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Ellen nodded towards Dean. “Kid’s in love with you or somethin’.”

“Alright.” Dean clasped Castiel’s shoulder, dragging him back towards the tent. “Real nice talkin’ to you, El, but—”

“We’re not done here.”

And just like that, Dean stopped. Castiel tapped his forefingers together nervously. Ellen had them both on strings, and they were straightened up within seconds.

“What’d you do, kid?” she asked, eyeing Castiel.

“I put a can of beans over the fire, and it exploded.”

Dean snickered. Ellen frowned. “It exploded,” she repeated, blinking.

“Yeah. See,” Castiel went over to the firepit and picked up the can. He brought it back to Ellen. “I might’ve forgotten to take off the lid, and it sat there a while, so the building heat and pressure made it...you know. Explode. That’s what caused the loud bang. There’s still a bunch of beans plastered somewhere, no doubt. Dean and I even had to wash off in the lake to get rid of some. It was kind of bizarre, so when you mentioned firecrackers and guns, I didn’t think about this right away.

“I apologize for disrupting the campground,” Castiel continued, placing the can on the table. “Dean didn’t do anything. It was just a stupid mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

Ellen let out a tired breath. It looked like the weight of a terrible day finally settled on her shoulders.

She started walking away. “You two are out of here tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” Dean said.

“Good. Stop by the office before you leave, would you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Night, boys.”

“Night.”

Castiel waited until she disappeared around the bend to turn to Dean. Then he smiled widely.

Dean ignored it completely. “C’mon. Let’s get some sleep,”  he said, pulling Castiel back in the tent.

 _Kid’s in love with you or somethin’._ Castiel nearly giggled as he crawled back in bed. They settled beside one another, and Dean made it a point to avoid any and all eye contact. But, when he finally did cave in, Castiel made sure he was beaming.

“I never said that to her, by the way,” Dean said, defensive. “She pulled that out of her ass.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she did. Because things like that can certainly appear out of thin air.”

“Whatever.”

“Admit it. You love me.”

“First of all, shut up. And secondly, goodnight. So in other words: end of discussion.”

And as if that was the best response Dean could’ve given, Castiel promptly wound an arm around his waist and pecked him on the cheek.

_I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 4 ST:  
> Rosyln - Bon Iver, St. Vincent  
> Rise - Eddie Vedder  
> Hideaway - Karen O And The Kids  
> Help You - Louden Swain  
> Middle Distance Runner - Sea Wolf  
> At Once - Beirut  
> Making the Move - Ari Hest  
> You Were Afraid - Night Beds  
> Promising Light - Bon Iver  
> The Universe is Laughing - The Guggenheim Grotto  
> Tin Lover - The Paper Kites  
> 715 - CREEKS - Bon Iver  
> Somewhere Only We Know - Lily Allen  
> Across The Universe - The Beatles  
> Happy As Can Be - 11 Acorn Lane  
> Halcyon - The Paper Kites  
> Lovesong of the Buzzard - Iron & Wine  
> The Mortal Boy King - The Paper Kites  
> Honeybee - Steam Powered Giraffe  
> Such Great Heights - Iron & Wine  
> Animal Tracks - Mountain Men  
> Intertwined - dodie  
> Sea of Love - Cat Power  
> On The Moon - A.A. Bondy  
> Malleable Beings - The Paper Kites  
> Anchor - Lovo Amor  
> Michicant - Bon Iver  
> Dream A Little Dream (cover) - Eddie Vedder
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).


	8. Day 5 - Strange Trails & Beaten Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Since this is the last official chapter of this fic, I thought I’d just go ahead and give it an early release. Every week felt just a little bit longer because I made myself wait until next Sunday to upload the newest chapter. I was always very excited when I put another addition out there, though. So I decided, what the heck. Might as well reward myself and you guys with an early release of Day 5.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my story, especially those who’ve stuck through it as it was released. It means a lot to me to know people out there find something enjoyable out of what I’ve made. It’s a big part of what encourages me to keep going with it.
> 
> Anyway. Without further ado, I hand Day 5 over to you. Happy reading!

11:56 AM. Great. Just peachy.

Castiel nudged his watch off the mattress. He was supposed to be home in four minutes. He’d barely even opened his eyes. So unless he and Dean broke the sound barrier while packing up and warped back home, unless they figured out a way to build a time machine out of a ‘67 Chevy Impala (as if Dean would even let them try), he was a dead man walking. Absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt dead.

But to be completely honest with himself here, Castiel didn’t give a shit.

He could easily die happy now, knowing it wasn’t a mistake Dean wound up snoring on his chest. Nor was it an accident that they were tucked in each other’s arms. This was entirely on purpose. And even better: it was _allowed_. Grinning, Castiel squeezed Dean a tad tighter as he recalled yesterday’s events. They admitted their feelings for each other, they kissed, cuddled, they made out. That last one made his stomach drop, and suddenly Castiel realized just how hot it was in here.

The midday sun turned the tent into an oven. They might as well have been wrapped in foil, given the many covers they slept under. But for the sake of Dean’s slumber, Castiel didn’t remove any and remained still. Because Dean was just too damn cute sleeping like that. With the skin of his face all scrunched on the side he rested on, making his lips pucker slightly open. With his hair ruffled and messy. How could Castiel risk waking that up?

...Okay, maybe he could risk it. Delicate, Castiel brushed some hair away from Dean’s forehead and kissed him there. When that didn’t wake him up, Castiel proceeded to gently run his hand up and down Dean’s back. His shirt was a little damp with sweat, but that didn’t bother Castiel much. He was definitely a bit drenched himself.

Someone with a yapping dog walked across the stretch of gravel outside their site. Castiel smirked. Whoever they were, he bet they wouldn’t ever think two boys were lying together in the tent they just passed. It was going to be his and Dean’s little secret.

But just how secret were they going to keep this?

Dean shifted, and after taking in a deep breath he opened his eyes. It took him a moment, but as soon as he gained some form of consciousness, he grinned up at Castiel. “Hey.”

“Hello Dean. How was your sleep?”

“Pretty good.” He rubbed his face, then he froze. His smile turned into a mischievous smirk. “I just had this dream with you in it, actually. It was...nice.”

Castiel lifted his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“...Care to elaborate?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?” Castiel pouted.

“Because it’s none of your damn business.”

“I beg to differ. I was in it, that’s warrant enough for it to be my damn business.”

“Sorry. But the rest is and will remain classified information.” Castiel gave him a look, and Dean laughed. He started peppering kisses under his jaw. “‘Sides, you’ve got imagination. Use it.”

“Fine.” Castiel tried acting angry, but that proved to be quite the difficult task when the subject of said anger was currently showering his neck in kisses. Damn it. Dean was so doing that on purpose. Giving up, Castiel tilted his head to give Dean more room. “You shouldn’t have even mentioned it, if you were intent on being so secret about it.”

“See, that’s exactly why I needed to mention it.”

“Go to hell.”

Dean pressed one last kiss to his cheek, then plopped onto his back. He flung the covers off them both. “Might as well already be there. It’s fuckin’ hot in here.”

“I’m sorry, should I leave?”

“What? No, it’s just—” Dean paused. Dean frowned. The look of disappointment that overcame his face was priceless. “Wow. You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I am,” Castiel said, grinning. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to use that on you.”

“Too long, I’m guessin’.”

Castiel nodded. “Far too long.”

Dean took a minute to wake up some more, yawning and smacking his lips. He sat up and stretched, his back forming quite the glorious arch. He caught Castiel staring. Castiel didn’t care.

Neither did Dean, for that matter. “What time is it anyway?” he asked. “Usually doesn’t get this hot until—”

“It’s noon.”

“Noon??”

“Noon.” Castiel picked up his watch again and handed it to Dean, sensing he needed the confirmation.

Dean took it in his hands. “Well,” he sighed, fiddling with the strap. “You’re dead.”

“Yup.”

“I take it you just woke up, too?”

“Yyyyup. Woke up just in time to watch the clock seal my fate.”

Dean hummed. He was tapping a beat on his chest. “I’m surprised Ellen hasn’t kicked us out yet. Checkout was at ten...” His fingers stilled. “Screw it. Let’s stay.”

Castiel beamed. “Really??”

“Yeah, why not? First half of the day’s over, might as well stay for the second. It’ll make up for wasting yesterday in bed.”

“What about work? You said Crowley—”

“I’ll tell him I had some car trouble on the way home.”

“Dean. You’re his mechanic. You take excellent care of your car. How’s he supposed to believe that?”

“I’ll just say I didn’t have the right tools to fix it.”

“You keep a bag of tools in the trunk.”

Dean shrugged. “Left it home to make room for the firewood.”

Castiel wasn’t convinced. From what he heard of the guy, Crowley didn’t seem like the forgiving type, especially when it came to business. He didn’t want Dean to get in trouble because of him.

“Look,” Dean started, “I’m more worried about your mom, to be completely honest. Last time I brought you home late, I could hear her yelling at you from outside the house. And we’re already late, being even more so can’t be that great of a thing for you. So it’s your call.”

Well, if he was already late, then they should at least make it worth it. They were definitely staying.

Castiel told Dean that, and they got up to ready for the day. After sliding his glasses on, Castiel went to his duffel bag to see what clothes he had left—if he had any left at all. He dug through, setting whatever he’d already used to the side, and—

Nothing. Wonderful. Maybe he could ask...

“Dean.”

“What?”

“I’ve run out of clean clothes.”

“You serious?”

“Deadly. Would you happen to have any extra?”

“Can’t you just wear something you wore before?”

“Of course not. That’s disgusting.”

Dean probably rolled his eyes. “You run out of clean everything?”

“No. Just shirts and pants.”

After rifling through his own bag, Dean walked over. He handed Castiel a red and black flannel, and a pair of dark blue jeans. “Here you go, princess. But please do allow me to apologize: we just ran out of tiaras.”

Castiel accepted them kindly. “This will suffice.”

“I’m starting to think you end up wearing half my stuff on purpose.”

“I wasn’t planning to ruin two of my outfits with blood and beans, and now we’re staying for an unanticipated day. So think what you will.”

Dean mumbled something in response, and Castiel started dressing. The jeans were a bit too long, so, not wanting to scuff them up, he rolled them at the ankles. Then he rolled the sleeves of the flannel up too, but only because it was pretty hot out. He slipped on a pair of socks and shoes, and by that time Dean was standing outside the door, nagging him for being so slow. Castiel barely got to tap his shoes on snug; Dean already started his way towards the road.

Castiel zipped the tent shut, then jogged to catch up. The sun was blazing bright, and he had to block it out with a hand and squint to see Dean. “Hurry it up, Cas,” he said, turning to walk backwards. He kicked a rock Castiel’s way. “Day’s not gettin’ any younger.”

Castiel grinned. He liked the way the light framed Dean. The way it lit up his smile, his eyes. Dean’s steps slowed and he looked laid back, almost lazy the way he stood there. With his shoulders relaxed and his hands tucked in his back pockets. While it was a significant contributor, the warmth in his eyes couldn’t have come from the sun alone.

It was a gorgeous day. Neither of them wanted to pay that any mind yet.

Castiel caught up, and they fell in step with one another. Their shoulders bumped, and Castiel tried not to think so much about how the backs of their hands kept brushing together. Instead, he asked why they were even walking (though he didn’t mind if they were simply walking to walk. An afternoon stroll could be romantic, couldn’t it?). Dean explained that they needed to let Ellen know they were staying an extra night—and to pay for it. They’d get kicked out otherwise, no question.  

“Speak of the devil…” he mumbled. A silver truck was up head, coming their way. Dean waved it down. “Hey Ellen!”

The truck stopped beside them, the engine shut off, and the window was rolled down. Jo was in the driver’s seat on the opposite side. She smirked. Ellen, sitting in passenger, gave Dean a chiding look. “What the hell are you two still doin’ here?”

“Well,” Dean pursed his lips and rolled back on his heels. “We were on our way to let you know that we decided to stay another night.”

“No you aren’t,” Ellen said, shaking her head. “Because _we_ were just on _our_ way to chase you out of here. It’s passed checkout.”

“I know, but—”

“And a couple’a hunters arrived this morning, saw that you were supposed to be gone, said they wanted site twenty-eight for the night.”

“It’d take us an hour to pack.”

“That works out perfect then. They said they’d be back in an hour.” Ellen smiled.

Dean sighed. “Can’t they pick somewhere else?”

“Nope. They already paid. Looks like you’ll have to pick somewhere else.”

“Alright. Then we’ll take site twenty-two for the night. That one’s still open, right?”

“She wants you out of here completely,” Jo said, raising her eyebrows. “You guys caused us quite the headache last night.”

Dean shot Ellen a pleading glance. Ellen just shrugged.

“You heard her.”

Before Dean could open his mouth again, Jo turned the key and the truck was rumbling again. “Don’t forget to return the canoe this time, okay?” She waved, then left them in the dust.

“It’s not even hunting season…” Dean muttered. He crossed his arms. “Well. That settles that, I guess. Sorry, Cas.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel said, smiling. “I figured we might be pushing our luck.” He turned to walk towards their site, and Dean followed. The sun felt even nicer on his back. “Besides, I already got more out of this trip than I was hoping for anyway—not to say that I wasn’t expecting it to be enjoyable or fun. So don’t look at me like that. I just, I mean…” _What I told you, what we’ve told each other...it went better than I feared it might. A lot better._  “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean’s smile returned. Castiel’s only brightened when he felt their brushing hands tangle together. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay. That should be everything.”

Dean slammed the trunk shut. He wiped his hands and checked their surroundings for any stray possessions, but Castiel was sure they’d combed the campsite clean.

They stuffed their clothes in their bags and laid their sleeping blankets and bags on top of the car to air out. Any remaining food was either gobbled up, or thrown in the back for road snacks. Dean let Castiel roll around on the air mattress to deflate it. The tent was just as difficult to take down as it was to pitch, probably because they never even put it up right in the first place. Dean left halfway through to say goodbye to Janice. Castiel thought of saying his goodbyes out of politeness, but returning a single, indifferent wave to Kristian at a distance seemed appropriate enough. By the time Dean returned, Castiel had given up on the tent and started shoving their blankets in the trunk. The tent was taken care of once and for all soon after. Then Castiel had to remind Dean that they still hadn’t returned their canoe. After that, all the remaining loose items, like the fishing poles and Dean’s guitar were the last to make it back in the car.

Arms crossed, Castiel leaned back on the trunk. Dean shuffled his way before him. Though he wasn’t looking Castiel in the eye, he smiled. “You know, I’m real glad you could finally make it out here with me. Even though you had to lie to your mom and all…”

“It was worth it,” Castiel said, smiling back. “And I’m glad, too. I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, despite all the times we nearly got ourselves killed.”

“Hey, it’s called adventure. And it’s exactly what your life needed, so you’re welcome.”

“You see, Dean, I require life in order to enjoy the adventure. Keep that in mind next time you take me out here.”

Dean looked him in the eye. His smile turned into something a bit more earnest. “You wanna come out here again?”

“Of course. This is the best time I’ve had in months, especially since it was just us.” Things were always better with Dean and Dean only. He seemed to have a knack for that. Castiel was going to miss it.

He was going to miss it a lot.

“Thank you,” he continued, “for bringing me here. Really.”

Dean smiled in a way that made the day fade away. He smiled warm, and suddenly that’s all that mattered. They weren’t going home today; they were already there. They were returning to their lives away from it, and one day they’d return here, too. If the look Dean gave him promised anything, it promised him that. In the moment it took Dean to take a step closer and hold him tight, Castiel promised him the exact same thing. Castiel hugged him back. Castiel breathed. He could’ve lived in that moment forever.

But of course, time moved on. Dean took a step back, and they unfurled from one another. “Ready?” Dean asked.

“Yep.”

“You don’t have to use the restroom or anything?”

“Oh. I did just drink the remainder of our sodas. So I probably should.”

“Yeah. Let’s _not_ repeat the bottle incident.” After ruffling Castiel’s hair, Dean made his way towards the driver’s door. “I’ll be waitin’ here.”

Castiel walked to the nearest outhouse. Now those were something he wasn’t going to miss about this place.

Once he returned, he found that Dean had already started the engine. He was sitting forward in the driver’s seat, his eyes focused on the rear view mirror. His Zeppelin tape was playing again. Castiel opened the door to the passenger seat and plopped in. He clicked on his seatbelt. Dean was still checking out his face in the mirror for...whatever reason, so Castiel started tapping the beat of the song on his thighs.

Not too long after, Dean let out a short hum. “I only counted a hundred sixty-five.”

Oh. He was counting his freckles. “You missed a couple.”

“Must have...” Dean mumbled. “Because you would know, wouldn’t you?”

“I would. There’s one on the corner of your jaw, and another near your temple. It might be those two. I miss counting them on occasion. They are pretty faint, after all, and they’re a bit farther from the rest.”

Dean shook his head, but smiled. “And here I thought you were only kiddin’ this whole time.”

“Of course I wasn’t. Let it be known, Dean, that when it comes to freckle counting, I don’t mess around.”

“Dork…”

At that, Dean shifted into gear and started driving. With his arm resting on the opened window, he waved to Janice as they passed by. Castiel started messing with the A/C settings, but he figured it’d feel better if he rolled down his window too.  He watched the trees zip on by. He watched their site shrink in the rearview mirror. Before it could disappear entirely, he turned around to watch the lake swallow it up himself. Yeah. They were definitely coming back again.

Once they made it onto the highway, the radio was cranked up and the wind played with their hair. The engine rumbled and the sun beat down on the leather seat. There wasn’t much left of it, but summer was shining blue in the sky and raining on the plains in gold. The road stretched far ahead, long and empty. Dean kept the Impala cruising at a solid sixty anyway, a good five miles under the speed limit. Usually he’d go ten over at least. But Castiel didn’t mind the change. In fact, it was appreciated. It gave him more time to enjoy the scenery, pig out on the many snacks they had left over. It gave them more time to spend together, even if a certain someone would stop mid-conversation just to belt the chorus of a song they’d listened to a hundred times. Even if the other threatened to throw the tape out the window each time the song was rewound and started over. Even if they spent a long stretch of the road in silence.

Castiel watched the sky. He kept a close eye on a cloud that was slowly splitting itself in two, when a gentle warmth and weight fell over his hand. Dean staggered their fingers, before folding and settling them there. Castiel grinned. He liked the way they looked, like stitches on a sweater or a zipper that can’t be broken.

Castiel looked up. Dean’s eyes were far too trained on the road—not that that was a bad thing, though. Someone had to drive. But the way he fixed his gaze straight ahead, the way he ignored the second sun beaming right next to him, surely he was avoiding something. And oh god, was he blushing? It made his freckles more prominent, and that was just too adorable. Castiel didn’t think he’d ever manage to make him blush like that.

“So…” Dean started, trying and failing not to act shy about it, “...what are we now? Still just friends? Boyfriends?”

Castiel turned his hand over and held Dean’s back. He thought it over a second longer.

He simply shrugged. “Who cares? For now, we’re _us_.”

Dean smiled. He seemed to accept that just fine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, that’s your third bag of jerky.”

“Fourth, actually. We haven’t eaten yet today, meal-wise. In case you forgot.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel griped about having drunk all the remaining sodas; if he hadn’t done that, then he’d have something besides boring old water to down all this salty jerky—

“You wanna stop somewhere to eat?” Dean asked. “There is a diner coming up soon. It’s decent.”

Castiel smiled. “That’d be nice.”

Not five miles later Dean pulled over. The diner was just beside the highway, with a gas station and mini mart attached out front. They pulled into a spot close to the entrance. Only a handful of cars filled up the other spaces, despite this being the only rest stop for what seemed to be a while. A mother was chasing her spastic son out of the mini mart when Castiel exited the car.

A bell rang as Dean held the door open for him. _Roadside Family Diner,_  a sign read. Glasses clanked, and the regular aroma of lunch and must hit Castiel. Despite the three and a half bags of jerky, his stomach rumbled. He and Dean waited silently for the host.

When the host did arrive, he wore a comically large smile. “Well I’ll be darned,” he said, “if it ain’t Dean dang Winchester.”

Before either of them could do something about it, Castiel had to back up and make way for the bear hug oh so clearly coming Dean’s way.

Dean patted the man’s shoulder in return. “Hi, Sully…”

“Long time no see, bud!”

“Yeah, uh. Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“How’ve you been? Are you out camping again?”

“You guessed it.”

“How’s Ellen doing? She good?”

“Oh, you know. Same basket of roses like always…” Dean cleared his throat. “Can—can you let go of me now?”

This Sully man giggled and did as he was told. “Sorry. It’s just been so long, ya know?” He grabbed some menus from a cart and waved for them to start walking. “Here, I’ll get you two seated. Booth as usual?”

“Yeah, about that,” Dean said, “you wouldn’t mind seating us somewhere...discreet, would you?”

Hm. Castiel liked the sound of that. Sully gave them each a second’s glance, then nodded in understanding. “Corner booth it is. Right this way, gentlemen.”

Dean was the first to slide into the booth. Seeing as it was meant to seat at least five more people, Castiel tried not sitting too close or too far. Sully handed them each a menu. He stood with his hands folded, gleaming at Dean expectantly.

“Well?” he sang, giving a slight shimmy. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but pointed at Castiel. “Sully, this is Cas. Cas…” he waved a hand carelessly to Sully. He opened his menu.

And Castiel didn’t know it was even possible for this man to beam any brighter than he already had. But there he was, grinning like it was Christmas morning. “Of course. Dean’s told me so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet.”

“Um, nice to meet you as well,” Castiel said. Though he didn’t think Dean ever said a word about him. He would’ve remembered.

“Now. Is there anything I could get you fellas to drink besides the water?”

“Coffee,” Dean said.

“Um.” Castiel flipped the menu over to scan the list of drinks. “Cranberry juice, please.”

“Got it. I’ll be back with those in a jiff.” At that, Sully winked and left.

Castiel turned to Dean. Dean was hiding behind his menu. “Cranberry juice?” he muttered. “What are you, an old man?”

“I didn’t know you talked about me so much around here.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna believe Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky over me?” Dean gave him a look over the menu. “There’s a reason I’ve never spoken about him, by the way. Dude’s a bit out there.”

“He seems like a fun guy to me. How long have you known him anyway?”

Dean shrugged. “Six, seven years? He used to work for Ellen as a camp counselor. Sam attended his summer camp session thingys a lot. Me getting to know him is what I like to call ‘collateral damage.’ ”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Now he just creeps people out at diners in the middle of nowhere.”

Castiel scoffed. “You’re such a jerk—”

“You gonna order somethin’ with me or not?”

Castiel picked up his menu and started browsing. Pictures usually helped him decide what he wanted, but there wasn’t a single one to be found. Despite that, he was able to narrow his choice down to something breakfasty. Dean explained that their dishes were pretty huge, even he couldn’t finish them. So whatever Castiel wanted, Dean said they’d split it and it’d be fine.

Sully returned with the drinks soon after. He worked up a conversation with Dean, asking how Sam was, if school was going well for him. Castiel let it fade into the background as he sipped his juice and overlooked the menu. The skillet section kept catching his eye, so he quickly picked one when asked. Sully took the menus and said their food would be out real soon.

The diner was small, but even then Castiel couldn’t see anyone else seated nearby. The walls above their seats were painted turquoise, covered in kitschy art and license plates from around the US. Most of the light came in from the big windows facing the highway. Some blues song was playing from the stereos overhead, leaving an old, rusty jukebox by the door unused. Clinking dishes and the tapping of Dean’s fingers on the table were about the loudest things Castiel could hear.

“So,” Dean began, “have you received your class schedule yet?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. But I will once I get there. The school does know that I’m interested in their physics program, so I’m hoping they don’t stick me in a bunch of English and history classes for my first quarter.”

“Those were always your favorite.”

Castiel groaned. “Someone might as well kill me now, if that’s going to be the case. Before I do it myself. Because I swear, if I have to write one more bullshit essay about iambic pentameter, or the sad and short life of some French king, that’ll be it for me.”

“You’re goin’ to college, Cas. You’re just getting started on that kind of crap.”

“Hooray for me.”

Dean laughed, but the smile on his face soon turned sincere. “You’re gonna kick ass.”

Castiel gave him a look. “Psh.”

“What, you don’t think I’m serious? Because I am all of the serious right now. Lots of ass will be kicked, and the one doing the all kicking will be you.”

“Thank you,” Castiel laughed. “I am nervous about leaving, though. Being on my own and all that.”

“Well, think about it like this: you won’t have anyone constantly breathing down your neck anymore. You’ll be free to do whatever you want, when you want.”

“That’s the problem. It takes me the longest time to figure out what I want. Then when I do, everyone tells me it should be something different.” Castiel was about to take another sip of his cranberry juice, but he stopped himself. “So a lot of the times, I don’t even know what I want anymore. I’m left running in circles.”

Dean nodded, but Castiel didn’t expect him to really understand. Castiel was sure the moment he graduated from college, it wouldn’t matter what he wanted. His mother would do her damndest to drag him by the ear back home and make him work for her in some way. That’s what she’d done with all his older siblings, after all—even Gabriel. So why should he be any different?

But Dean? He always did what he wanted, and he hardly ever had anyone around to tell him “no.” The guy had a will of steel because of it. Castiel envied that about him for as long as he could remember. Hell, from the moment they first met, Castiel knew that about him. And sure, it made Dean kind of an insufferable brat at times. But even so, Castiel couldn’t deny it.

It’s what made him fall in love with Dean in the first place.

“Screw what everybody else thinks,” Dean said. “It’s your life, Cas. Do whatever the hell you want with it. Forget everything else.”

Castiel breathed. Somehow they were a lot closer to each other than they were a minute ago. He looked Dean in the eye, and he didn’t shy away when the gaze was returned. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.”

Dean smirked. “Well you’re in luck. Because I want you to kiss me, too.” He leaned closer, stopping just inches away. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”

Well. Dean didn’t need to ask him twice.

It didn’t matter that they were two boys. It didn’t matter that they were in a public place. When they closed their eyes and reached out for one another, all of that disappeared. Castiel kissed Dean, and it was the most natural thing in the world.

_You are exactly the right person for me. You know that, right?_

Dean hummed. He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and they backed out of their embrace. They kept their knees touching, and their eyes never strayed from one another’s. Castiel loved how green Dean’s eyes were. Peering into them was like being out with the fireflies again.

Sully came out with their food shortly after. He asked if they wanted separate plates, but they both said it was fine. Castiel had to switch his fork over to his right hand, though. Otherwise he and Dean would be bumping elbows the whole time. He didn’t mind. As long as they kept sitting this close, he had no complaints.

Dean switched his fork to his other hand, too. “Did you really have to pick wheat toast?” he asked.

“Hey, you put me in charge of ordering. Blame the wheat toast on yourself.”

“Nope. I’ll continue to deem you as guilty. Know what your sentence is?”

“All the wheat toast?”

Dean nodded, pushing the plate over. “All the wheat toast.”

Castiel gladly accepted it. “In that case, guilty as charged.”

They started eating in silence. Castiel spread too much raspberry jam on the toast, and he worked on his half of the skillet slowly. A jumble of potato wedges, ham, green peppers, scrambled eggs and mushrooms, all drizzled in melted cheese. It wasn’t award-winning, but that’s exactly why he loved it. It was plain and simple and good. Hester would never cook something like this at home. And despite his previous disapproval, Dean snuck a piece of toast when he wasn’t looking. Castiel pretended not to notice. Sully kept on top of the refills too, so that helped wash everything down.

Thanks to the three and a half bags of jerky, Castiel actually finished eating first. He set his fork down and wiped his mouth. Dean already caught him once with a piece of cheese stuck to the corner of his mouth, he wasn’t about to let that happen again.

He studied a few of the license plates above their heads, finding one from Montana, another from Iowa. Huh, and look at that—even one from Alaska. Did they even have cars up there? Castiel doubted so. Fiddling with the straw in his cup, he let out a sigh. If there was ice, he would’ve started crunching on that...

Anything was preferable to telling himself over and over again not to lean on Dean’s shoulder, really. Because there it was, all lean-on-able and shit.  

But what was he so worried about anyway? They just freaking kissed, after all. Surely Dean would be fine with it.

...Screw it. Breathing in, Castiel let his head fall to the side. He held that breath, and only until Dean slung an arm around his neck and pulled him closer did Castiel let it go. And by God, he could so get used to this. He imagined it would take quite some time, any sort of display of affection still made his nerves thrash like an ocean storm. But that made it all the better. Castiel didn’t want to get used to this right away. He wanted to spend a lifetime learning all the ways Dean could make him this kind of seasick.

Castiel locked fingers with the hand draped over his chest. He never wanted to let go.

“Well aren’t you two adorable!”

Both Dean and Castiel jolted. They tore apart from one another like the other was on fire. Sully was standing behind the table. His eyes grew wide.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It just slipped out—”

“Can you not do the thing where you pop up outta nowhere?” Dean questioned.

“I’m sorry. I was just on my way to another table, and I saw…” Dean gave him a challenging look. Sully bit his lip. “You know what? Nothing. I saw nothing. Hey, would you look at that, you’re running low on coffee, do you want another refill on that coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“What about dessert? We have an excellent assortment of cakes, pies—”

“Just the check, please.”

“Right. On it.” At that, Sully marched away.

Dean sighed. His face was beet red. “Like I said. Creepy.”

“It’s not like he was standing there the whole time.” Castiel frowned. “...Was he?”

“Who friggin’ knows,” Dean mumbled. He busied his hands with his coffee, but he pushed the cup away soon enough.

That...that wasn’t too big of a deal, right? They asked to be seated somewhere discreet; of course they were bound to be caught by someone. Sully could’ve done a lot worse. He could’ve yelled at them. He could’ve kicked them out and told them to never step foot in here again. Instead, he smiled and said they looked adorable. Sure, he knows Dean, and that must’ve helped. It didn’t mean he’d go telling everyone else Dean knows. He seemed too nice for that. So it couldn’t be that bad. Still, Castiel had trouble ignoring the sudden tremble in his hands. It was thrilling, but it wasn’t terrifying. It wasn’t embarrassing. It wasn’t bad.

Castiel tensed. Dean sure seemed to think otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“Cas, you didn’t do anything wrong. So quit apologizing.” Dean’s eyes trailed away. “In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t ever apologize for somethin’ like that again. I’ve made you do that too many times already.”

Castiel slouched over. He folded his hands in effort to get them to stop shaking. “You didn’t know.”

“Exactly. I didn’t know, because you felt the need to hide this from me for two years.” Dean smiled, but it was the sad kind. He shook his head. “So if there’s anyone that should be apologizing here, it should be me.”

“Then apologize,” Castiel said. “I mean, if it makes you feel any better. But you really don’t have to.”

Dean gave him a look. He wasn’t convinced.

Castiel sighed. He crossed his arms on the table. “These past couple years...it’s been a much more complicated manner than just me and you. There were a lot of other people and things that kept me from telling you, a lot of things out of my control. And a very select and very special few put me through the closest stuff to actual Hell over my...preferences. But trust me. You aren’t one of them.”

“Alright. Well, it might not’ve been the closest stuff to actual Hell, but looking back, I know I put you through a lot of crap. So for that, I’m sorry.”

Quite frankly, Castiel didn’t think the apology was necessary. It was appreciated nonetheless. “Thank you, Dean.”

Sully returned with the check soon after. He expressed his hope that he didn’t cause any trouble, but Dean told him to zip it. Dean left five dollars as a tip, writing out "HUSH MONEY" on the receipt beneath. Castiel snuck an extra three, then scribbled a quick note on the receipt as well: _Dean’s kind of an ass by nature, as I’m sure you’re already aware, now that I think about it. So don’t let it get to you too much. Have a nice day._ Reading over it, he realized it sounded rather sarcastic, so he added a smiley face at the end. Dean was already out the door at that point, so Castiel hurried to follow.

“What’d you do, write him a love letter?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you know me. Quite the serial romantic.” That earned him a laugh. “Always on the move from one victim to the next.”

“Well in that case,” Dean looked at him over the top of the car and winked, “I better make my time to shine count.”

Castiel smirked. “I’ll hold you to it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Dean groaned as they pulled up to Bobby’s driveway. Sam was sitting on the steps of the front porch. Cursing under his breath, Dean lowered the radio’s volume before braking to a stop. He flicked the engine off. He raised his arms at Sam in a “what the hell??” sort of manner; Sam just shrugged.

“Should—should I wait in the car?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head and opened his door. “C’mon.”

They walked towards the porch together. Castiel tried not to acknowledge the grit in Dean’s jaw too much.

“Seriously? Did he leave again?” Dean asked Sam.

“What else did you expect?”

“For him to actually stay home for once. I told him I wasn’t going to be back until—”

“Just forget it, Dean. Dad left. Big shocker there.”

Dean sighed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Sam rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. He offered a quick, small wave to Castiel. “Hey Cas.”

“Hello Sam. How’ve you been doing?”

“Fine, I guess. You?”

“Pretty good, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem.”

“Are you two seriously going to ignore me right now?”

“Don’t be rude, Dean. We’re just saying our hellos.”

That’s when Bobby came out. “I leave for two minutes to grab a beer, and Dean’s already out here throwin’ a fit.”

“I’m not—”

“Welcome back, boys.” Bobby leant against a column on the railing. He took a swig of his beer. “How was the campin’ trip?”

“Very pleasant,” Castiel said, smiling.

“It was fine,” Dean said, not smiling. “When did you pick Sam up?”

“Couple days ago. But far as I’ve been told, your dad’s been gone just about as long as you have.”

Dean looked to Sam for confirmation.

Sam nodded. “He left like, ten minutes after you did.”

“Yeah. I’m going to kill him.”

“While you’re busy doin’ that,” Bobby interjected, “you wouldn’t mind tellin’ him to shoot me a call sometime, would ya? He still owes me for fixin’ his damn truck again.”

“Well maybe if you stopped fixing it, he’d stop disappearing on us, and you could tell him that yourself.”

“If he stopped fixing it, then there wouldn’t be a reason for him to tell Dad that in the first place,” Sam mentioned.

Dean started back towards the Impala. He must’ve realized he was losing the argument. “I gotta make room in the car. You can all go piss me off behind my back.”

“That doesn’t make sense either.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

Castiel followed shortly after. He helped Dean move some tubs and things to the trunk of the car, and they did so in silence. Castiel wanted to say something, but Dean’s father was always a sore subject, and Dean never faced him long enough to start a conversation. He was doing it on purpose too, surely. A seat was cleared and ready for use, but Castiel grabbed one last bag anyway. It was his excuse to join Dean behind the open trunk of the car.

“It’s packed full,” Dean said, waving at the mess of stuff. “We’re gonna have to take somethin’ out.”

Castiel approached him carefully, setting the bag by their feet. “I know your father pisses you off, but you don’t have to take it out on everyone else.”

“You guys act like it’s nothin’. I’m takin’ it out where I should.”

Castiel sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But in case you forgot, you aren’t the only one here with an absent father. I understand, Dean—”

“No you don’t. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and your dad’s _'absence'_  didn’t change that. But me and Sam? We were hungry half the time.”

“I know.”

“Because Dad was never around to feed us, which is why I had to do that for him—”

“I _know_.”

“—which is why I never had time to focus on anything else, which is why I barely graduated, which is why I’ve been working my ass off to send Sam to college instead of myself, which is the goddamn reason why I’m never going to do anything substantial with my own life. Dad knows that, I’ve told him a hundred times in a hundred different ways. But what does he do? He leaves, again and again and again. So excuse me if I seem a little upset at you for acting like it means nothing.”

Castiel hugged him. He wound his arms around Dean tight, and he didn’t think to let go. Not even when Dean stood frozen for what felt like a solid minute. Not even when Dean choked on a breath, or when that breath came skimming over his shoulder. Castiel held him close, and he wasn’t letting go until this was worked out.

Dean held him back. He nearly crushed Castiel in two, as if to convince himself he was still there. As if to keep him in place forever.

“I thought you’d be the one person who wouldn’t leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m not leaving you, okay?” Castiel said. “Remember what I said last night? I’m with you, for as long as you want me to be. That’s past being a promise at this point, okay, that’s a fact.

“And quit giving up on yourself. Lots of ass will be kicked, and the one doing even more kicking will be you. Even if you can’t see that yet. Just keep in mind that I can.” Castiel took the smallest step back, only enough to look him in the eye. He smiled through the tears. He was determined to make Dean do the same. “Either that, or the only ass I’ll have to kick is yours. And that’s hardly fair.”

That managed to make him laugh. Good. Dean deserved to laugh, and Castiel loved to hear it. Even if it was the least bit of a chuckle.

They kissed. They wiped their eyes and braced themselves for all else that came next. They dug out the leftover firewood so there was enough room to close the trunk. Sam went for the passenger seat, but Dean told him to park his ass in the back.

“But I always—”

“In. The back.”

Sam grumbled, but did as he was told.

“You ain’t stickin’ around to visit?”

“Sorry Bobby, but I gotta get Cas home. He’s already late.”

“Way late,” Castiel added with a worried sigh. Although, he was hoping Dean would’ve at least taken up on Bobby’s offer. That way he could avoid his doom just a bit longer.

“Thanks for watchin’ Sam,” Dean said, trapping Bobby in a hug. “I’ll remind Dad about the truck next time he shows up. Whenever that’ll be...”

Bobby patted his back. They exchanged their goodbyes, and Dean started his way back to the car. “Good luck at college, Cas,” Bobby said.

“Thank you,” Castiel smiled, following Dean. “Goodbye, Mr. Singer.”

They got back into the car. Once they had their seatbelts on, Dean spoke up. “Literally no one calls him that.”

“So?”

“So he probably thinks it’s weird.”

“I bet he appreciates it.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. “Do you think Bobby appreciates being called Mr. Singer?”

“No.”

Dean switched his gaze to Castiel. Castiel glared back. “Well there you have it.”

“Congratulations. You might be right for once. Now drive.”

“Alright, fine, look at me, I’m drivin’ up a storm.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. It was his turn to look back at Sam. “So, summer’s almost over. Are you excited to start high school?”

“If it’s as terrible as you two made it seem, then no.”

“It wasn’t that bad…”

“It was pretty terrible.”

“Not helping,” Castiel hissed, smacking Dean’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, Sam. Your brother’s a pessimist.”

Sam nodded, because of course he already knew that. “What about you, you excited for college?”

“Yes, actually. I am,” Castiel grinned. “Oh! Dean, did I tell you about the observatory they have?”

“Uh, yeah. You wouldn’t shut up about it for a week.”

“I’m dying to use it. I’ll break into it if I have to.”

“Because that won’t get you kicked out.”

“Of course it won’t. Because I won’t get caught.”

“Right. No one’s going to notice a giant telescope moving on its own, or anything.”

“See, now there’s the optimism we’re looking for.”

Dean made a face, but he soon turned back to the road. Castiel went on, “I’ve been looking forward to it for a while now.”

“It sounds like it’ll be a lot more fun than high school,” Sam mentioned.

Castiel grinned. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

There weren’t as many clouds the closer they got to town, so Castiel busied himself with the power lines, his gaze following them as they dipped and rose. Dean cranked the radio up again, but he didn’t sing. Sam nagged him to turn it down, but every time he did Dean only made it louder. It got to the point where Castiel had to turn it down for the sake of all their ears. The look of betrayal Dean flashed him was met with a look pleading for forgiveness. “Sorry, but it had to be done,” Castiel said. Sam thanked God. They were closing in on town, so Sam thanked God for that, too. As for Castiel? Well, their trip was going to be over the moment they reached the first stoplight. He was going to be a little less than happy about that.

But it was okay. Dean didn’t hold his hand again like he’d wanted, but Castiel understood. With Sam in the car, it would’ve made things...awkward. Besides, now he knew Dean wanted that as well. That was enough.

It was enough to make their cross into town a bit more bearable, too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Of course Balthazar was taking an inconsiderately long time to answer the door.

Castiel rang the doorbell for the umpteenth time. He didn’t mind spending a few extra minutes with Dean, but not if it meant spending those minutes in front of a door with at least four cameras pointed at it. He wrung his hands. He rang the doorbell again.

“Maybe he isn’t home,” Dean suggested.

“He’s home.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the sprinklers are on,” Castiel grumbled. His clothes were still wet from getting hit by one. “He always turns them on when he’s here. Helps ward off the Girl Scouts, or so he claims.”

“Seriously? Who doesn’t love Girl Scout cookies?”

“Crazy people. Like Balthazar.”

Castiel reached out to ring again, but there was a sudden clatter of noise behind the door, followed by staggering footsteps. Locks were unlocked, and the door swung open. “For the love of God, Naomi, it was a bloody joke. Your son’s perfectly f—oh.” Looking down at them, Balthazar blinked. “There you are,” he slurred. “How nice of you to show up.”

“Hello, Balthazar,” Castiel said stiffly.

“Hello Cassie. Dean.” He turned and waved at them both. “Come on in, loves. Make yourselves at home.”

Castiel went in first. He waited for Dean to resituate his duffel bag over his shoulder and follow. Balthazar shut the door behind them.

“You were expecting my mother at the door,” Castiel said, picking up a plant that had fallen over.  “Is she on her way here?”

“She is, which means you,” Balthazar pointed a finger at Dean, “and your tin can of a car waiting outside, might want to disappear. If you two still want to keep this whole mess a secret, of course. I couldn’t care less.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Ten minutes ago, possibly more.”

 _Crap_. Their house was fifteen away.

“She’s been ringing me nonstop for hours now, by the way,” Balthazar said. “Asking what was taking so damn long, where the hell you were, why you weren’t there. As if she doesn’t have my brother’s company to run. I’d love to see someone else come up with fifty different excuses she’ll believe, because I seriously think that I broke some records today. Almost wish I’d written them all down… Finally I told her I was too drunk to drive you home. So that’s what I’ve been up to. Getting too drunk to drive.”

“Or stand,” Dean muttered.

“Either of you care for a glass of Chateau d’Yquem?”

“No, thanks,” Castiel said.

“Your loss.” Balthazar shrugged, then took a swig out of the very bottle he was offering. “Yes, my time in prison was dreadful, thank you _so_ much for asking.”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about that.”

“How can I not? It’s been all the rage for me for years now. And, a little bit of advice, dear nephew of mine.” Balthazar leant against the wall, blinking slowly. “If you really want another man to slam into you, and I mean _deep_ into you, then I highly recommend getting arrested.”

“Oh my god.”

“Because trust me. You won’t get turned down. In fact, they’ll come running to you.” He nodded towards Dean. “Or you could just finally ask him.”

“Balthazar!”

“What? This whole deal was a tryst, was it not? Why else would you lie to your mother to share a weekend getaway with him? Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. We’re all adults now, you can tell me everything that happened. I insist. I’ve got a ten thousand dollar bet with Gabriel riding on it, for God’s sake.”

“Why don’t you tell us more about prison?” Castiel asked. He was pretty much begging at this point. “Like how you ended up in there in the first place.”

“Oh, your darling mother never told you?”

“I know full well what happened. Dean might need a refresher, though. Right, Dean?”

Dean just gave him a look.

“I was charged with attempted murder of my girlfriend,” Balthazar said easily enough. “Oh, excuse me. _Ex_ -girlfriend.”

“Wow,” Dean said, shrugging. “That’s...that’s somethin’.”

“But it was a total misunderstanding, you see. She had the knife first, I was only trying to get it away from her…”

Balthazar went on. Having heard enough, Castiel waited for him to disappear behind a corner. Then he grabbed Dean by the wrist and led him down the hallway ornate in family portraits. If he remembered correctly, there was a sitting room at the end here, with nice big windows and trees to look out at—

Ah, yes. Castiel set his satchel and pillow on one of the couches, then took his duffel bag from Dean. He set that on the floor. Balthazar was still rambling, but they were too far to hear any of it clearly.

“And your mom felt better having you stay here with him than out there with me,” Dean stated.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

Dean hummed incredulously in response. Castiel didn’t know what to say, still very much flustered. It only got worse when he caught Dean staring at him with a devilish smirk.

“You got somethin’ to ask me, Cas?”

“No.”

“Because I’m all ears.”

“Look, Balthazar was just being an ass. What he said, about me going with you this weekend...that was never my intention.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious.”

Dean shot him a challenging look. Castiel only blushed more. A lot more.

“You should go,” he said, turning away. “My mother is going to show up any moment.”

“Sorry,” Dean laughed. “I know he was pullin’ that out of his ass. You’re just cute when you get flustered. That’s all.”

Castiel distracted himself with a bird perched outside the window. _Ugh_. This was hardly the goodbye he wanted. Why did his family have to ruin everything?

Dean’s arms wrapped around him from behind. Immediately his shoulders relaxed, the rest of him too. “Since you aren’t officially leaving until Saturday, think you and I can hang out again before that?”

“Maybe,” Castiel managed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.” At that, Dean kissed his jaw. “Because _I_ might have somethin’ to ask _you_.”

“Really? Like what?”

Dean let out a quiet hum; Castiel felt it rumble on his neck. “Figure out a date and time for us, and you’ll find out.”

“Right. Got it.”

Dean retightened his hold, pulling them back into the moment. Castiel was glad for it. They simply held each other and gazed out a window and didn’t think about anything other than experiencing what was here and now. Where nothing else existed but each other and the light outside. When time finally recognized that they deserved a break and stopped, just for them. And if it was only for a few more moments then so be it. They were going to have these last few moments together, and nothing could ever change that or take it away.

Dean folded both his hands over his. Castiel shut his eyes. He could’ve started crying over how well they fit together.

“I love you, Dean.”

They breathed, mellow and slow. Ever so slightly, Dean held on tighter. “I know.”

“God,” Castiel whispered, leaning back on him. “I love you so much.”

“I know, Cas. I know…”

Castiel stole his lips one more time. He wasn’t expecting those words to be returned anyway. Not now, at least. But he could still hear them in the way Dean kissed him back. They were loud and clear, ringing throughout their entire beings like guitar strings strummed in the most sincere duet. And then they were quiet as a whisper, like the wind rustling through leaves. Dean didn’t need to say them outloud. With the one kiss, he’d said it all.

They slowed to a halt, but neither of them moved away. They breathed onto each other’s skin, like the only air left in the universe was each other’s.

Neither of them wanted to go through with it, but they exchanged their goodbyes. Dean left the room alone. Castiel tried not to count his footsteps going down the hall. He just listened to them. They faded and stopped, a door opened, and they started again. The door closed, and it was silent after that. Castiel did all he could to keep every step in his memory. These ones he didn’t want to forget.

Then Castiel remembered. He dove for his satchel and hastily removed his sketchbook. He turned to the drawing he made for Dean. He snatched a pencil from the pouch and touched it to the back of the page. He scribbled the first couple thoughts that came to mind. After carefully tearing the page out, he stole a folder from the coffee table, emptied it, and stuck the page inside. He ran through the hallway and out the door, glad to find Dean hadn’t taken off yet.

The engine was on, though, so Castiel quickened his pace. He ran through a few sprinklers to save some time, tucking the folder close and out of the way. Once he reached Dean’s side of the car, he promptly shoved the folder through the open window. “Here, take this,” he said. He eyed Sam, noticing he was sitting shotgun now. “Check it when you get home.”

Dean accepted the folder, and placed it over the dash. “Alright,” he mumbled, shooting a grin. “Thanks ahead of time.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean gave a loose salute. His eyes seemed greener than before. “Till then, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, stepping back. He watched as Dean drove away. He didn’t move a single muscle until the car disappeared around the bend entirely. He did all he could to remember that too. Then he turned to walk back into the house, finding the sun a bit brighter than usual.

_Until then._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean walked out of the garage and into the kitchen.

He kicked off his shoes and hung his keys, asking Sam to bring in at least one of the tubs of food for him. Sam, like the insufferable brat he was, didn’t. “I will, though,” he said, “once you finally show me what’s in that folder.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Looks like he was unpacking alone.

But he really didn’t feel like it now. He was much more interested in finding out what Cas put in the folder—dude ran across Balthazar’s lawn like it was a friggin’ war zone to give it to him. So, folder in hand, he made his way up to his room. Dean leant back on the door after closing it behind him. He opened the folder.

He was faced with a note, jotted in Cas’ usual chicken scratch handwriting. He read over it. He tried not to smile like the lovestruck idiot he so undeniably was now, but he couldn’t help it. Cas was such a dork, and a crazy adorable one at that. Dean went over the words again, finding his heart jump with each line. The drawing on the other side made him smile even more.

Yeah. He already missed Cas like crazy.

Dean tacked the paper on his corkboard, drawing side up. He studied it a minute, taking the time to appreciate Cas’ craftsmanship. It looked just like him—aside from the choice in skin color and all. But Dean liked it all the same. He understood it now.

Sam yelled to him, something about the trash being full. Dean told him to empty it himself for once. Sam told him not until he saw what was in the folder.

Damn it. Kid got him there. No way he was showing this to Sam.

Dean said he’d be down to take care of it in a minute. For now he just needed to call Cas and tell him how much of a freaking sap he was, and to never speak to him again unless he was planning on being this full of sap all the time from now on.

 

_You are my stars,_

_You are my night sky._

_I’ll leave it up to you_

_To figure out why._

_\-- Castiel ❤_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAY 5 ST:  
> Flightless Bird, American Mouth - Iron & Wine  
> Dose - The Apache Relay  
> These Days - Nico  
> 29 #Strafford APTS - Bon Iver  
> Don't Leave Me Now - Apache Relay  
> I Can See the Pines Are Dancing - A.A. Bondy  
> Southern Sun - Boy and Bear  
> The Fault in Our Stars (MMXIV) - Troye Sivan  
> In the Wind - Lord Huron  
> Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron  
> I Will Be Back One Day - Lord Huron
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on Spotify:  
> APP URI: spotify:user:katelynfoster98:playlist:6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u  
> BROWSER LINK: https://open.spotify.com/user/katelynfoster98/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=Y5L0y6FAR3GLu43mHriPiA
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who stuck through this story. I know it’s not the most intense or most emotional, influential fic out there, but it’s nice to know it had some sort of impact on other people.
> 
> I’ll probably just go ahead and upload the epilogue tomorrow. It’s fairly short, and it feels nicer to read it in close proximity to Day 5’s end anyway. So you can expect to see that tomorrow afternoon or so.
> 
> See you all then!  
> -kip


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Castiel is going to the University of Chicago, or UChicago, which is the same university our dear friend Misha attended. Now that's not the only reason I chose for Castiel to study there, nor is it the first reason, (more on that in a future fic), but it was what sealed the deal. 
> 
> Anyway. I mentioned that just for funsies. I'll let you get on with the epilogue now.

Castiel fumbled in his coat pocket for his key.

It would’ve been substantially easier, had he set the package on the floor while doing so. But by the time he figured that out he already had the door open. 

He was greeted by his roommate Oskar, who appeared to be done unpacking and was tidying up his side of the room. Castiel said hello back, then set the package down on his desk before removing his shoes and coat. He gladly tore off his hat, as he hated wearing it while his hair was still wet. But diving practice just ended, it wasn’t a short walk back to his dorm, and Chicago was already well into autumn. He wasn’t too keen on getting sick two days before classes started. His glasses were still fogged over from the chilled morning air, and running up six flights of stairs certainly hadn’t helped. But he was eager to open the package. He’d received a note from the school’s mail center about it that morning, and he’d been looking forward to picking it up since.

Dean was the one who sent it, after all. And it was out of the blue. Castiel could only imagine what was in it.

He asked Oskar if he could use his box cutter to open it. As he handed it over, Oskar asked, “Who’s it from? Family?”

And Castiel knew he was grinning a bit too much for his answer to seem believable. “Just a friend.”

Castiel cut open the box. Sitting on top of a wide assortment of his favorite snacks and teas was a piece of folded notebook paper.  “CAS” was written on the front. 

It was taped shut, so Castiel removed that before unfolding the letter. He was careful to catch the Polaroid sitting inside before it could fall out entirely. Looking at it, he grinned. Of course Charlie snuck a picture of them at the bowling alley. And of course it had to be the one time they held each other and kissed, when they hid in the corner of the arcade, where they were sure no one would see them. Of course  _ she _ did. 

The way they looked, with their hands on each other’s shoulders and sides, their eyes closed to the rest of the world...it sent a shiver up Castiel’s spine. He didn’t realize they looked so scandalous when they kissed. 

They looked good.

Castiel tucked the photograph in his desk drawer. He picked up the letter again, and started reading:

 

 

_ You son of a bitch. _

_ Do you realize how much harder it is to shop for you now, knowing you’re my boyfriend? Ever since you agreed to start a relationship I’ve felt obligated to buy you a friggin’ fruit basket or something. But, after a lot of wasted thinking on the logistics of that move, finally I decided to hit the supermarket and get a bunch of your favorite junk food. Figured you’d appreciate that more, anyway. Now you have emergency snacks for those long nights of studying and paper writing. Yeah. I just saved your life. You’re welcome. _

_ Moral of the story is, I guess we shouldn’t let this whole ‘boyfriend-and-boyfriend’ thing change too much. I mean, sure, I’m totally cool with us holding hands and riding off into the sunset and making out till we turn blue. In fact I look forward to that. But we’re still the same idiots we’ve always been. You’re still my best friend, and that will always come first for me.  _

_ And in a lot of ways, I see you as my night sky too. But unlike you, I’ll actually tell you why instead of leaving you to scratch your head over it for days on end (thanks for that, by the way. Really kept me busy.) Like Polaris guiding us out of the woods, you’ve always kinda been this person I look up to. You’ve pointed me in directions where I can be sure of everything, when I would’ve been completely lost otherwise. And you’re always there for me, even when I can’t see you. You’re the one person who can turn my darkest days into hopeful ones. You light my path, you’re my light in the dark, yaddi yaddi yah, this is getting disgustingly cheesy, so I’m just going to assume you get the point.  _

_ (If it hasn’t been made clear at this point, let me just say I’ve never written one of these before.  _ ~~_ Because I’m pretty sure this counts as a love letter, doesn’t it? _ ~~ _ If it continues being this horrible and dumb, I guess I’ll just have to keep sending more till I get better at it.) _

_ Anyway. Besides the snacks, Charlie made me give you that picture I’m sure you’ve drooled over by now. She said you’d need something to decorate your room with. That in mind, I got you some small posters from your favorite movies and things. Because I know how much of a fangirl you really are. I also included white Christmas lights. Supposedly they flicker. So you can hang them up and lie in your bed and pretend you’re looking at the stars, as I’m sure Chicago offers an exceptional view of a blank night sky flooded with pollution, too damn many skyscrapers in the way anyway, and the occasional helicopter that your poor little heart might mistake for an actual star at first glance. Yeah. You’re welcome again. _

_ And because I can already tell you’re out to steal half my wardrobe, I threw in my old Zeppelin t-shirt to give you a head start. I would’ve given you the Bowie one since you have such a hardon for him, but then I remembered it was a gift from you. That would’ve been awkward. _

_ I feel like I’m rambling now, so I’m just gonna wrap this up.  _

_ You’ve been gone just a few days and I already wish you were back. After having you stuck to my side like some kind of symbiont all these years, I know it’s gonna feel like you’re on a different planet pretty soon here. But more than that, I know you’re right where you need to be. You’re starting someplace new with a blank slate to fill. You’re on your own for the very first time in your life. I know you’re scared about that, but trust me. It’s not all terrible. And it’s about time you start making a path for yourself. You deserve this chance more than anyone. So do your best to stay focused, and stay focused to do your best. Knock that physics degree out of its socks. Become the mega ultra nerd you were destined to be. But don’t forget to relax every now and then—smart as you are, you still haven’t figured that out. _

_ So make some friends. Learn new shit. Live life. Kick ass. I’d love to hear all about it when you get back. _

 

_ See you in December, _

_ Dean _

 

 

Castiel wiped his eyes. And instead of knocking out the preassignment for his calculus class like he planned, he grabbed the first pen and paper he could find, and started on the first of many letters back to his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue ST:  
> Far Away - Mean Lady  
> Lucky - Jason Mraz  
> When You Find Love - Peter Barbee & Mark Pontius
> 
> Postlude:  
> Old Pine - Ben Howard
> 
> You can find the full soundtrack on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDiXzAyqJu9C21J94lt1u?si=w5Ah3p4eSJKUTOKAesBtBQ).
> 
> And there you have it! YAMNS in its completion. Round of applause for those of you that made it through. 
> 
> Although this fic has some to an end, I will say that I've basically planned out Dean and Cas' entire lives for this series/verse. So if you liked this fic, I bring good news in that there's gonna be more. I lot more.
> 
> Just recently I reached the halfway point of writing out a longform sequel for YAMNS, which takes place the winter break following these events, when Cas is back home visiting for the holidays. Bad news about that one is that I don't plan on releasing it until December of 2019 (given it's complete by then--forgive me for I am a slow writer). But! The good news is that I've got a bunch of shorter, more episodic-like fics lined up to release until then. I'm not entirely sure when those will be going up, still gotta figure that part out, but it'll definitely be sooner than December 2019. Cross my little heart.
> 
> And if anyone is interested at all, I started up an instagram account for this series. When I'm not writing, I'm heinously busy trying to get my work done for my animation classes. And when I'm not losing sleep over that, I'm making fanart. I'd like to share some of the art I've been making that follow Dean and Cas' adventures in my fics. [Here's the link](https://www.instagram.com/yamnsverse/?hl=en) to that instagram account where I'll be posting little doodles or animated illustrations, or whatever I end up making. I'll also be posting announcements for when a new fic will be coming out. If the link doesn't work for whatever reason, the account name is "yamnsverse." There's nothing posted there yet, but pretty soon here I'll get something going (EDIT 10/19/18: I have started posting! yay). It'll be my little treat to those of you who made it to the very end of "You Are My Night Sky" and read this note all the way through. (Also, adding images to an Ao3 fic is a pain imo, so this is my alternative to that fiasco.)
> 
> Anyway. Thanks for sticking it all out! I'm excited that people are actually reading this fic. I'm excited to share more with you all soon.
> 
> Peace out <3  
> -kip


End file.
